


The Ones You Lost

by ignite



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Ghost-hunters AU - Freeform, M/M, Magic, cw : suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignite/pseuds/ignite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he could remember, Michael could see shadows and creatures that should not exist. </p><p>He thought he was alone. Cursed, or possibly crazy. Maybe both. Well, he was wrong…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this story at the same time I had the one for Whoever Fights Monsters. I chose to write WFM and forget about this one... but then it didn't stay forgotten, it just kept bugging me and I kept having more ideas for it. So now I finally wrote it. 
> 
> It's a ghost/creatures-hunters AU, and most of the creatures and magic used in this story are taken from French legends. There's magic and fairies but it's not the good kind. 
> 
> It also already written from start to finish, I'm still posting it in chunks because I want to re-write some parts, but it's gonna update veeery quickly.

Just outside the city of Austin, Texas, a lone bridge arched over a dried riverbed.

Dusk was throwing a bloody light on the world, elongating the shadows on the tarmac. The silence was only broken by a few bird songs and the faraway roar of rare cars driving along another, distant road.

This one was empty, save for a big black cat sitting on the sidewalk. Michael had been walking up and down the bridge for half an hour now and he hadn’t seen a single vehicle drive by. He didn’t know where this road led, maybe nowhere interesting. It disappeared into a thick forest after the bridge, trees boring vibrant green leaves which hid everything else from view.

The cat’s deep blue eyes were watching him go back and forth, its oddly twisted tail tucked close to its body. This was not a street cat, it looked way too pretty to be living in the wild, but there were no houses around here. Michael had briefly wondered where it came from before deciding it wasn’t his problem.

Hands in his pockets and eyes sweeping his surroundings, he waited anxiously. This place wasn’t quite right ; there was something just… well, wrong, all around him. A fault in the very air, a twist in the atmosphere. But then, that was why he was here in the first place… He had finally found an actual haunted place in Austin. 

The warmth of spring wasn’t enough to keep him from shivering. He hoped something would happen soon, the anticipation was fucking killing him… 

Apparently, he only need ask. He reached the end of the bridge and, for what felt like the hundredth time, he turned around, ready to walk the other way. But he stopped dead in his tracks, body and mind both coming to a standstill. There was something in the middle of the bridge now. Or rather, two somethings.

Two kids, a thin girl and an even thinner boy, standing side by side and looking at him with dead, blank eyes. They were slightly transparent and the dying light of the sun shone through them, unnatural, out of place and time and reality. The girl’s neck looked broken, her head tilted at an unnatural angle. They weren’t moving. The hair on Michael’s arms raised and he shivered again, biting his lips nervously. What to do now? They were only kids. But he needed more noise, more agitation… He needed to attract attention. And if taunting a couple of kids was what it would take, then he was going to do it. They were already dead after all, it wasn’t like he could make it worse for them.

He sighed, hands closing into fists in his pockets, and, with a last glance at the cat still watching him patiently, he slowly walked towards the two apparitions.

"Hey, kids!" he called. Their blank eyes didn’t move. "What are you doing here? You lost?"

No answer, but Michael hadn’t expected one.

"You have no right to be here, you know. It’s not your place. Either you leave, or I’m going to have to make you leave."

The kids were as still as statues. The sun had almost disappeared now and the sky was turning black, the moon blinking above their heads. The lack of light seemed to make the ghosts more solid, less transparent. Michael took his hands out and squared his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger, stronger, and more confident than he really was. He was no coward -when it came to actual human beings. Faced with ghosts Michael would not be ashamed of running away. Unfortunately, tonight, it was not an option.

"Okay, since you don’t want to move, I’m going to have to do it!"

He ran at them. He had no idea what he was doing, but it was something.

The kids calmly watched him approach, and they still hadn’t moved when Michael suddenly felt something grab the back of his shirt and throw him backward.

He landed on asphalt and skidded on the road ; his head hit the ground hard enough to make him see stars, his glasses flying away. Not stopping to even catch his breath he scrambled onto scraped hands and knees, whole body feeling like it had just gone through a cheese-grater. He blinked back tears and found himself looking at the blurry image of a much, much larger ghost.

It had been a burly man, the kind to knock your head off your shoulder with one calculated blow. He had a large hole on the side of the head, a gunshot probably, and his body was as transparent as the kids’ but he was still enormous and evidently still strong enough to send Michael flying. His one whole eye was bulging out of his skull with anger.

Michael had found his angry ghost. Great. Now he wished he hadn’t.

He swallowed thickly as the ghost started walking towards him. His head was still throbbing like a church bell and his eyes were swimming around in his skull. He could only flail like a newborn fawn on trembling arms and legs and crawl away.

The ghost roared and charged like a bull, a mountain of irrational rage. Michael screamed. He’d never felt so frail and vulnerable as he brought up his arms in what was his only defense.

A voice shouted something behind him. There was a whoosh of air above his head and when he peeked in-between his arms, trying to see what was happening, the ghost had stumbled back a few steps looking both dumbfounded and even angrier than before.

Two people appeared then, running to stand between Michael and the ghost like meatshields. The ghost lunged at one of them, and they both disappeared.

Just like that.

Michael blinked at empty space. Everything had happened in a flash and now it was over. There had been no warning and no sound ; the ghost and the guy had evaporated into nothingness as if they had never been there in the first place. Blinked out of existence.

The other man didn’t look bothered by this sudden vanishing act. He turned around and crouched in front of Michael, looking at him worriedly.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"

His head was hurting like fuck, but right about now Michael was so stunned that it barely registered.

"W-what… what…"

"What’s your name?" asked the man calmly as he put his backpack down and rummaged around in it. "I’m Jack. I’ll help you out. Cracked your skull, did you?"

Jack took a small bottle out of this bag and squinted at a tiny label. Michael belatedly noticed the man only had one real hand ; the other was a plastic prosthesis, frozen like a mannequin’s. 

Michael was also pretty sure he shouldn’t be seeing two Jacks, even without his glasses, nor hear his voice echo when he said, “My friend Geoff is going to take care of the ghost. Don’t worry about it.”

Geoff… Michael frowned through his horrible headache.

"Geoff… as in Geoffrey L. Ramsey?"

Jack looked back up at him.

"You know him?"

"I… I was looking for him… It worked…" breathed Michael.

A stupidly relieved smile stretched on his lips, and he lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he came to, Michael briefly wondered if he was in his grandmother’s house. It certainly smelled like her house, that particular smell of old wood and old… everything.

The couch under him was also old. It seemed to be made of random lumps somehow stitched together, the upholstery rough against his back. On the white ceiling, a single lightbulb swung on a piece of string, and cracks were running merrily along the surface.

That definitely wasn’t his grandmother’s house. If only because she was dead and the house had been sold years ago, though Michael had seen her ghost once. She’d been hovering above her rose bushes and grumbling about how these new people in her house didn’t know how to take care of rose bushes.

A young face suddenly popped into his field of vision, bringing his thoughts away from grandmas and roses and back to the present.

"Oh! Are you awake?"

Michael groaned. Moron could clearly see he was awake, why scream it in his ears? That guy was lucky his headache had disappeared…

The dude put Michael’s glasses on his nose, bringing the world into sharper focus. Then a new voice ordered, “Gavin, go away,” and he disappeared.

Another face came, light blue eyes under frowned eyebrows, and Michael gasped. He fumbled on the piece-of-trash couch and managed to sit up, dislodging a scratchy blanket someone had spread over him.

He was in a small and cramped living room, part of a small and cramped apartment. The wall paint was crackled and falling apart, giving the uncomfortable feeling that the walls were crumbling.

There was a flat screen TV -probably the most expensive thing in the whole apartment- and neatly stacked piles of video games all around it, a couple of armchairs that weren’t faring better than the couch, a tiny open kitchen, a short hallway leading to the front door on which a big red pentagram had been painted and two iron bars somehow welded onto it, and the big black cat with its fucked-up tail rolled up in a ball in a corner (was it theirs, then?).

The only window, blocked with iron bars like in a prison, was letting the moonlight filter through, helping out the poor lightbulb above Michael’s head. A few of those silver rays falling on the black cat made its eyes sparkle and its extremely thick fur take on blue tints .

And there was Geoffrey L. Ramsey himself, looking slightly less impressive than on the pictures Michael had seen of him, flanked by Jack and two other guys who looked about Michael’s age. One of them had a goofy smile, the other was making the hair on the back of Michael’s neck stand up.

Michael’s examination of his surroundings were cut short by Geoff’s stern voice.

"You’re a fucking idiot."

"Huh…" Michael coughed a couple of times and ignored the glass of water Jack offered him. "…What?"

"We were watching you, trying to see what your plan was. Apparently, it was "run head first at a dangerous ghost and wait for it to cave my skull"! What were you playing at?"

"I—"

"Do you have a death wish? Because there are other ways to do that, ways that don’t involve pissing off an unstable fucking ghost!"

"But I—"

"We’ve been keeping an eye on you all day, wondering what the fuck you were trying to do by going to all the haunted places around. But you had no plan, did you? You just wanted to tempt Fate, wriggle in front of her like a juicy piece of meat!"

"Geoff," interrupted Jack, "I don’t think he knew what he was doing."

Michael thought about getting offended -he didn’t deserve Geoff’s abuse but he didn’t want to be spared it on account of Jack thinking he was a useless idiot- but… well, Jack was right.

"No, I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I just wanted to see if I could meet you."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, acutely aware that he looked like a stalker, and it wasn’t better than looking like an idiot.

"Yeah, Jack told me about that," said Geoff slowly. "How d’you do it? Was it witchcraft?"

"Do what?" said Michael, fearing to have misheard him. "Witchcraft? Does that even exist?"

"Never mind," said Geoff, but he looked decidedly relieved. "Just tell us who you are."

Michael took a shaky breath. The other guys were following the exchange with interest, and he felt himself heat up as if he were under powerful interrogation lights.

"My name is Michael Jones. I… I see creatures, but I haven’t seen any witch…" Michael paused. The men around him were looking at him intensely, eyes shining in the dim light. So was the cat. "I saw Geoff’s name on the Internet. He kept popping up everywhere I looked trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. I thought you would at least understand me or… something. So I came here and tried to find you. I’m just-I’m tired of being alone," mumbled Michael, feeling a little bit pathetic.

A slight silence hung in the air before Geoff, voice a lot softer now, asked;

"How old are you?"

"Twenty one."

"And you’ve never met anyone who could see what you see?"

Michael shook his head. His eyes had dropped to the floor. He heard Geoff sigh and move, his tattered shoes coming to stand where Michael was looking.

"What about your parents?"

"I don’t think they ever saw anything."

"Saw?"

"They’re dead," said Michael, taking care to keep his voice flat. "Car accident the day of my last birthday. I never really took the time to sit them down and ask them about creatures nobody believes in. They used to think I had imaginary friends, then told me to cut that shit out when I grew older… I think I scared them. They kept, you know… shouting at me. They would have locked me up in an asylum if I’d insisted."

Geoff seemed to think for a moment. “Then how do you deal with what you can do?”

"I don’t," said Michael honestly. "When I was a kid the creatures didn’t really bother me, I mean I’ve seen them forever so I didn’t care. Then I grew up and one of them attacked me… I was in the hospital for a week and nobody believed me when I tried to explain why, my parents were furious. Now I avoid everything, creatures usually leave me alone if I leave them alone."

"Then why look for me?" asked Geoff.

Michael rubbed his arms nervously.

"Because they started not leaving me alone. I see more and more of them nowadays, and I don’t know why. There seems to be more fucked-up ones… I mean I could be crazy, you know, schizophrenia or something?" Michael shrugged. "Could still be a possibility I guess, but I’m pretty sure that brute on the bridge was real enough." He wriggled his hands, scratches running along his fingers. Someone had cleaned them up but it still hurt.

"No, you’re not crazy," sighed Geoff. "There’s nothing wrong with you, dude. It’s just a thing some of us can do. It’s pretty normal to see more powerful entities as you grow up, kids usually don’t have the mental capacity that goes with seeing vicious things. It sucks but you can live with it pretty easily if you know how to handle it."

"Right…" said Michael. "I don’t know how to do that, so for me it just sucks."

"It’s not that bad," said the guy with green eyes and an accent. "It’s even useful! We make the world a better place!"

"Or not," said the other one.

"Stop it Ray."

"I’m just saying. Sometimes you save people, and then sometimes you just enslave a perfectly harmless Hututu…"

"Oh shut the fuck up," said Geoff, "you’re not harmless. And I gave you ample opportunity to leave, you’re the one who doesn’t want to! Have you changed your mind? Because Jack can go free you right now if—"

"No, it’s fine," mumbled Ray, crossing his arms petulantly. "I’m fine."

"Then shut up. Michael, listen to me."

Michael startled and tore his eyes away from Ray. He’d just been told that guy was a supernatural creature and his brain had a hard time moving on to something else, but Geoff was obviously about to say something important, standing stiffly before him with his ice-blue eyes boring holes into Michael’s skull. Geoff’s eyes could give that cat a run for its money.

"What’s a Hututu?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"An imp," answered Geoff. "Michael, I’m willing to train you and teach you why what you did last night was fucking stupid. That way at least, the next time you screw up I can punch you in the face without feeling guilty."

"Train me?" repeated Michael. "What does that mean?"

It was Jack who answered. “Everyone in the world can see ghosts and other creatures, but they see so much less than people like us do. We don’t need to wait until the creatures want to be seen, or get too unstable and start messing with reality. We see and can interact with everything… Which means you need to know how to protect yourself.”

Michael’s mouth was hanging open. He closed it with a click of his teeth.

"…I can?"

"Of course. How do you think we’ve stayed alive for so long?"

Well, Michael had no idea. From what he’d gathered from the Internet those guys liked to rub themselves against dangerous creatures.

Michael had spent most of his life actively avoiding anything that didn’t look human or alive, and running in the opposite direction if it looked even remotely dangerous. But since he was apparently doomed to see murderous creatures now that he was all grown-up… Maybe learning to fight wouldn’t be a bad idea.

"All right," he said slowly.

Geoff nodded. “If you want that, you have to give me your word that you will listen to everything I say without questioning me.”

Michael waited but Geoff seemed to have finished talking. This was apparently all he had to say on the subject : obey and shut up. Now he just looked at Michael and waited for an answer.

"Huh… What… does that mean?"

"It means supernatural creatures are dangerous, genius. And if you want us to help you it means you’re putting your life in our hands, and that means that everything I will tell you will literally be a matter of life and death. If you disobey, you’re toast. So?"

Michael looked at the people around him. If he understood everything, there was at least one supernatural creature among them, Geoff who didn’t really look like the hero the weird parts of the Internet were painting him as, Jack who had only one hand and Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know how he’d lost it, then Gavin who looked like the kind of people who had trouble tying their shoes in the morning. And a creepy cat with a broken tail and eyes like headlights.

What a golden team.

"Okay," said Michael with a shrug. "I don’t have anything to lose."

"Except your life," pointed out Jack.

"Yes… except that…" admitted Michael, "but my life sucks, so…"

"Yolo," sing-songed Ray.

Michael groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lessons started early the next morning. If the wicked did not rest Michael could guess the people fighting them didn’t either.

The night before Michael had been given sweat pants too big for him as a pajama, and shown into a small room filled with items that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a B-movie where idiot teenagers made a pact with the devil.

Pentagrams, hexagrams, heptagrams, and all sorts of other -grams were drawn on nearly everything. Beakers and test tubes were bubbling with things that were either shining like dust in the sun, or looked like vomit -but were thankfully odorless. The shelves were overflowing with objects and powders which Michael would rather never touch in his life.

There was no window but a buttload of partially-melted candles, one of which Jack had lit up to show Michael in without caring about all the papers and wooden items lying around.

"It’s my laboratory."

"What the fuck…"

"I’m an alchemist. Didn’t you notice your headache was gone? I can make remedies for everything in here… and I also do poisons, so don’t touch anything. Your bed’s here."

'here' meant under a stack of what looked like old parchments, which Jack, with his only hand, had quickly pushed to the floor.

"I don’t want to sleep here," had said Michael. "I’ll just take the couch."

"Don’t be ridiculous, you need somewhere comfortable. You need to be ready for tomorrow."

So Michael had settled down, feeling like he was already being a bother and not wanting to make a scene. He just had to avoid looking at that box under the table that looked like it was moving.

Now, as he was standing under the pink sky of dawn in the middle of an empty park, he was very thankful for the comfy bed. He wouldn’t have been able to wake up and come here had he not slept as well as he had.

He missed breakfast though.

Gavin had woken him up and pushed him out of the crappy apartment, explaining, as he saw Michael staring at it, that their weird Frankenstein-ish front door stopped anything that wasn’t authorized from getting in.

They had run down a crappy staircase and to this nearby park, which looked like the kind of place where a jogger would find a body in a low-budget cop show. That neighborhood wasn’t screaming money and high lifestyle ; apparently killing ghost wasn’t very lucrative.

Gavin, Ray and Jack all wore jackets, thing Michael did not have and he was regretting it as the early morning wind bit his fingers. Geoff was looking around as if he was sniffing something in the air. Michael tried, but the only thing he picked up was that crisp morning smell.

"Slept well?" asked Jack.

"Yeah. Thanks for the bed."

"You’re welcome. It’s my refuge when the boys get too noisy."

"Is it…" said Michael.

He’d assumed it *was* Jack’s bed. If it wasn’t then where did the man sleep? Where did any of them sleep, for that matter. Their apartment was small. Michael wondered if they just lied on the floor.

"All right," said Geoff, "let’s begin. Give me your hand."

Reluctantly, and only because he remembered the promise he’d made the night before, Michael complied. Geoff raised his other hand and clicked his fingers, and everything changed.

It felt like… Michael wasn’t sure what it felt like. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. As if someone had grabbed Michael’s brain and turned it upside down to force him to see things from a different angle. As if reality had just been shifted a quarter of an inch to the left while Michael’s body had not moved, standing still in the middle of the park.

Geoff clicking his fingers had made all the colors melt and turn to dust. When Michael’s brain stopped rolling around in his skull he realized that everything, absolutely everything was grey, as if a layer of cement covered every inch. The trees, the buildings, the grass… Even the sky was grey. The light itself was clear grey, and Michael had no idea where it came from because there was no sun. The only patches of colors were the two people present.

Geoff let go of his wrist. Michael wasn’t cold anymore, he wasn’t smelling anything anymore. There was no wind, no real temperature, no smell. No noise. The silence was so complete it was actually deafening. Curious, Michael crouched and touched the ground, and was relieved to feel textures under his fingers -at least one of his senses hadn’t fucked off.

Jack appeared out of nowhere, followed by Gavin who was holding onto Ray’s wrist, all of them as colorful as ever.

When Michael found his voice back, he could only mutter “What the fuck…”

"The Otherworld," answered Geoff.

"The what now?"

"Otherworld, Alfheim, Twilight, Elfirie, Fairyland… it’s got a bunch of names, we just prefer Otherworld. It’s like another layer of reality. The creatures who live there are called alfs -well, they’re called alfs by us," said Geoff with a shrug as if to say ‘who’s gonna complain’.

"Alf…" repeated Michael, looking around him. Now Geoff had said all this he was feeling like something could jump on him any moment. He noticed one flash of color, a very long golden thread lying on the ground which followed the main road and turned into a thin alleyway between two buildings. "Alf… like the fucking alien from that old TV show?"

"Like the old word for elf," said Jack while Gavin laughed. "People used to think elves were a variety of things, not just thin people with long ears—"

Jack kept talking. The golden thread was really, really pretty among all this greyness. Michael liked looking at it.

"—Ghosts, imps, demons, fairies… anything out of the ordinary got called an alf at one moment or another."

Maybe Michael could follow the golden thread… maybe it lead to an entire world made of gold…

A hand grabbed him and turned him around.

"Don’t," said Geoff, cold voice cutting through Michael’s fogged-up mind.

"What?" spluttered Michael. "What did I do?"

"Do not follow golden threads. Ever. If you follow one of them you won’t come back."

"Someone came back once," said Ray thoughtfully. "Well, parts of him did."

Gavin nodded. “His wife woke up one morning to find her garden inexplicably covered in pieces of husband. Wasn’t very pretty.”

"We never found out what did it," said Jack sadly.

Michael gulped. “Okay. I won’t follow the threads.”

Geoff released him, satisfied. He risked a quick glance behind him but the golden thread had disappeared. He did see a furtive shadow run away though.

"Don’t look so scared," said Geoff with a smirk. "Follow our advice and you’ll be fine. In this park you’re safe. It’s our little territory, I think alfs learned they better not come over there."

"You think?"

"Who the fuck knows with those guys. They’re not exactly the most rational set of people you could want to meet."

"The Otherworld is where the creatures usually live -or in the case of ghosts, get stuck," said Jack. "When they burst into our world it’s because they’ve punched their way out or slipped through cracks. This is where we fight. It’s so neutral that if you have the slightest bit of magic in you, it’s allowed to flow freely here. There’s nothing to stop it. It means the creatures are stronger here than in the normal world, but it also means you’re a lot stronger."

"And I can do this." Geoff jumped. And did not come back down.

He quickly flew higher and higher until he reached the top of a grey tree. Up there he waved down at Michael with a smirk on his face, fully aware of how impressive his little trick was.

"Can I do that too?" asked Michael excitedly.

"I don’t think so," said Jack. "Geoff’s a little special."

"Oh… so you can’t fly either? Can you breathe under water or something?"

"I have mental capacities," said Gavin sort of proudly.

"Yeah…" sniggered Ray, "you certainly have those."

Jack smiled. “I’m an alchemist. Contrary to what the others might tell you, it’s not given to everyone. You have to—-“

"Your hand!" screamed Michael.

Jack looked down at his hand, or rather at the lack of it. Where there used to be plastic prosthesis there was nothing now. The scarred stump of a wrist was peeking out of the sleeve.

"It disappeared!" yelped Michael.

"Oh. Yeah. It does that."

"It what? WHAT?"

"I lost it in the Otherworld… Since I didn’t lose it in the real world, my hand is still there when I get back."

"But… it was plastic!"

"No," said Jack calmly, as if he was talking about the weather and not his fucking hand. "If you lose something in one world, you’ll probably still have it in the other in some form. My hand is there in the real world but it’s completely frozen. Can’t move it, can’t feel it. Makes it look like a fake."

There was a joke somewhere in there about masturbation, but Geoff decided to come down and cut off Michael’s thoughts by making a black sword appear out of fucking nowhere. It was long but thin, and the metal was so dark it took Michael a second to notice the cracks running along the blade.

"Wow. That’s cool. Can I have one?" he asked eagerly.

"Soon," said Geoff.

A bubble of excitement gargled in Michael’s chest.

"Really?"

"If you’re serious about fighting alfs? Yes."

"Wait, no, I don’t want to fight anyone," said Michael quickly, suddenly feeling like he hadn’t read the smalltext at the bottom of a contract. "I just want to learn self-defense!"

Geoff’s gaze was almost bored. “I know. It was just a figure of speech.” He kicked his feet again and stayed a couple of inches above the ground, levitating steadily as if he were standing on an invisible platform. "Come on, you have a few more things to learn before we get you a sword."


	2. Chapter 2

The feeling of being understood, of his experiences being shared by other people, was enough to keep Michael on a cloud of happiness despite the intense training Geoff put him through.

In one week, Michael learned how to use his mind to locate alfs at all times, learned to hop between worlds and to expand his senses around him. It was a tiring exercise that resulted in hour-long headaches -he wasn’t good at it.

Surprisingly enough, with his senses on high-alert it was easier to ignore golden threads that kept popping up here and there. On the other hand, if he caught one at the corner of his eye and wasn’t prepared for it, he always felt an inexplicable pull, a desire to follow it as if it would lead him to a better life.

Alfs, ghosts and creatures alike, were rare enough. But outside the park there were shadows, things moving behind Michael’s back, small beasts he could only briefly see before they ran into hiding. Once he was in the Otherworld they were even easier to see.

Some of them were colorful and cute, like Vendoiselles and things Geoff called ‘Huon’s servants’, splashes of green and gold frolicking in the tall grass who scattered at the slightest disturbance ; others were big and ugly enough to make Michael retch.

Like the giant red slug that squelched as it moved.

"It’s a Yara," said Geoff as he wiped the blood off his sword after having slashed the slug in two so quickly that Michael had barely seen it. "It eats children."

"You’re kidding?!"

"Of course not."

Michael shuddered, wondering if normal kids could even see that thing before it got to them. He still didn’t want to pick fights with alfs, ever, but maybe he could make an exception for flesh-eating slugs and kill it if he ever saw another.

"Have you ever seen it… like… eat… a kid?" asked Michael.

"Kids are often the first victims," was all Geoff answered.

Michael watched him navigate the Otherworld and its creatures with the assurance of someone who’s been doing this shit for years and years. Geoff didn’t know every alf by name but he certainly knew if they were dangerous or not and how to kill them, whether or not they could bust out of the Otherworld and under which conditions. He was insanely clever in a street-smart way, which made Michael sort of guess that Geoff had learned about all of this on his own, without a teacher to guide him. Stumbling into the Otherworld for the first time without knowing what it was must have been terrifying…

Michael also learned that Gavin had a peculiarly open mind -so open that, as Geoff liked to say, thoughts fell out of it on a regular basis. Scatter-brained didn’t nearly begin to describe Gavin Free and his green sword which was actually a rapier, much thinner but much sharper. But he was apparently the one to conduct exorcisms on harmless ghosts, sending them to sleep instead of brutally murdering them. Michael hadn’t seen Gavin use his skills yet and he wondered how the hell that endearing idiot who tripped over his own feet twice a day could manage to fight anything.

Whenever he tagged along, Gavin was always willing to joke around with Michael, which made Geoff despair. And always gagged as soon as an ugly alf came into view, which amused Geoff to no ends. He also almost burned to death once, when a tiny alf with an unpronounceable name threw a fireball at him and it took him five good seconds to notice the bottom of his jacket was aflame. Michael saved him by ripping his jacket off him and beating the fire out while Geoff was laughing his ass off and asked between two hiccoughs if they wanted his bottle of water.

Jack proved to be a bottomless pit of knowledge, especially when it came to magic. It might have been explained by the fact that there was a big trunk in his laboratory which was filled to the brink with some of the weirdest books Michael had ever seen.

They were about all the creatures in the world; detailed witness accounts, journals, essays and theories, even a few scientific studies from the early 20th century, when building a ghost-catching machine out of cardboard boxes was considered ‘scientific’. Not a single book about alchemy, though.

"That’s because you can’t really learn it in a book," explained Jack. "It’s not chemistry. You have to have a connection with nature, you have to feel its flow—"

"Hah," sneered Geoff. "Alchemy’s just a broken science. We’re all waiting for the day Jack blows up the building."

Jack rolled his eyes but didn’t said anything. He seemed used to the jeering, and no matter what they said the guys obviously trusted him, taking the vials he gave them without hesitation.

And then, there was Ray. He hardly ever went out, preferring to stay home, slouched on the couch and playing video games. The others often hinted that Ray could be powerful but so far Michael had never seen him do anything more impressive than getting a stupidly high gamer score.

"Give me a ride," asked the imp one evening after a training session he had assisted to.

Michael had only hopped out of the Otherworld twice by himself so far, but he took Ray’s hand without arguing.

He closed his eyes, looking for the path that would lead him back home, straining his mind and forcing it to move through reality, and clicked his fingers. Colors, sounds and smells came back into the world immediately.

He let go of Ray.

"Can’t you do it yourself?"

"You really don’t listen to anything Geoff tells you, do you?" asked Ray. "Imps can’t leap through worlds on their own. I need an escort."

"Hmmm…" said Michael. "You said you were a Hutities or something…"

"Hututu," corrected Ray, sounding mildly amused at Michael’s lapsus. "And so what? I still can’t do stuff on my own."

They were walking back to the old building that had been a house for Michael for the past week. He wondered if the guys planned on making him pay rent one day or another.

"Why do you stay here if the guys are willing to free you?" asked Michael. "I do listen to Geoff, and he said imps don’t care about anyone."

"I don’t."

"Then why?"

Ray shrugged and made a vague motion with his hands.

"Okay…" said Michael. "Great. Good talk."

Ray grumbled. “Jack summoned and enslaved me for one specific task, then he did offer to release me but they have an Xbox.”

Michael blinked at him. “That’s it? You’re ready to stay enslaved for the rest of your life for a console?”

"Achievements are great."

"You’re crazy."

"Hey! An Xbox is the best thing when you’ve spent a hundred and eighty-five years imprisoned in a mirror."

"A mirror?"

"People in the nineteenth century were fucking weird. They stuck imps everywhere they could."

They climbed up the stairs, Ray barely breaking a sweat when Michael was panting after the tenth step. Third floor, no elevator. The one good point of this shitty apartment : free daily dose of cardio.

"So, wait. What does it mean that you’re enslaved?"

"Imps can’t get leave the Otherworld without being summoned," said Ray with a shrug. "Someone has to tie our name to an object from this world to anchor us here. Now I’m tied to your world it’s the opposite, I can’t leave it on my own. Imps fucking hate this, usually. I don’t really care. I’m not fond of the Otherworld."

"So… What’s your object right now?" asked Michael.

"As if I would tell you."

"Is it the Xbox? Are you anchored to the Xbox?"

Ray snickered but didn’t answer.

Geoff, Gavin and Jack had preceded them and were already in the kitchen grabbing leftover pizza, Geoff and Gavin locked in their usual game of asking ridiculous hypothetical questions to each other.

"So you’re saying that I can put you in a mirror if I figure out the formula?" mused Michael.

"Try it and you’re dead," growled Ray.

Michael laughed, but that night as he sat on the bed in Jack’s little laboratory, he snatched a book about imps. He wanted to know what else Ray could be stuck into.

Books were the only thing Michael was allowed to temper with in this room. Jack shooed him out whenever he needed to work, and he’d told him there was nothing dangerous as long as he didn’t touch liquids or powders so Michael kept his hands to himself, but as far as books were concerned, Geoff and Jack practically threw them at him. Michael had read more in a week than in all his years at school. There was no mathematics or French in there, but he could learn how to kill a sea trow… and what a trow even was in the first place.

The seventh night he spent here, he was reading when a strange tapping noise disturbed the silence. He first dismissed it as being a neighbor walking around, then realized it was coming from their own apartment and decided to investigate, slipping silently out of the laboratory.

The big black cat, which had for some reason taken a shine to Michael and usually followed him around, was on the couch and glared at Michael like an angry mother who’s caught her kid getting up in the middle of the night to raid the fridge. Michael glared back, not about to be intimidated by a fucking pet, not even one with eyes as freaky as this cat’s, and followed the sound.

It led him to the one room where he had never been in. Not because he’d been forbidden to but because he didn’t want to open random doors, and this for two reasons : 1) that was impolite and he wasn’t an asshole, and 2) who knew what the fuck he could find behind closed doors around here. There could be a werewolf stuffed in a broom closet for all he knew.

But there was the noise, and now Michael knew all he knew, he wasn’t really keen on letting stuff like that go unnoticed. He opened the door very slowly, very silently. And found himself looking right at Geoff.

He screamed, jumping so far back he hit the couch and almost toppled over.

"What’s happening?" he heard Gavin shout from the same room. "Oh… Jack!! You forgot to lock the door you donut!"

There was a sleepy noise, and then Jack appeared behind Geoff and took him by the arm. Michael watched him manoeuver the man back into bed -which Michael could now see clearly, with the door left wide open.

It was a collection of smaller beds pushed together, the feet bound with thick tape. They were the only things in this room with the exception of a small bedside table, upon which a glass jar was displaying the reddest rose Michael had ever seen.

Everyone was there. Gavin, Ray who wasn’t sleeping but playing with a Rubik’s cube, and Jack and Geoff who drowsily climbed back in.

Well. That answered the bed question. Also explained the real reason why Ray stayed here. “I don’t care about humans”, he’d said… He certainly seemed to care about those three.

"Geoff sleep walks," said Gavin sort of apologetically when he saw Michael starring.

"… Okay."

"Don’t worry about it, he won’t bother you. Jack will lock the door."

"… Okay."

Michael closed the door and turned around immediately. He almost had a heart attack as he saw two points of light before realizing it was the big cat’s eyes shining in the dark, fixed on him without blinking, and he hurried back to his own lonely bed, thanking the Lord those noises hadn’t been sex noises and he hadn’t opened the door to see _that_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The guys sometimes went out in the evening.

Two weeks into Michael’s training and they had left a total of eight times. At least one of them always stayed behind to keep Michael company (mostly Jack, whom Michael assumed couldn’t fight very well with only one hand), and the rest came back a few hours later looking roughed up, usually holding an envelope filled with cash. Michael knew what they were doing but they never talked about it.

They never really talked about anything, he’d come to realize. Except when it came to lessons about the Otherworld, Michael had to guess or ask very directly if he wanted to know a little more about them. They were private, and had mastered the art of saying a lot without saying anything. They usually answered when he asked questions, but with half-words and subdued sentences, turning around the subject matter with the grace of ballet dancers, twirling away from Michael with elegant little pirouettes.

Not that he asked a lot, he wasn’t some gossiping old hag, but sometimes curiosity got the best of him. They were some of the most easygoing people Michael had ever come across but, it seemed, the last thing they wanted was to actually bond with him. There was always a barrier between him and them.

But those night errands were intriguing. So, throwing away his usual prudence, he decided to ask Geoff. He was half-ready to have to fight to get an answer, but to his surprise there was no use for it.

Geoff explained there was no official name for the work they did. There was no official paycheck -there were no official anything.

They had not invented the job, as evidenced by the old books in Jack’s trunk, but they had researched it, named it, coded it in their own terms.They were for all intents and purposes in freefall and there was no safety net. They kept the streets safe as much as the next policeman or soldier but there would never be state funerals for their supernatural little asses.

Geoff called himself a Bounty Hunter, which was true enough. Michael was pretty sure actual Bounty Hunters got paid more than whatever pittance the four guys did, though. Nobody seemed very keen on paying alf-hunters large sums of money, and Geoff didn’t seem to want to negotiate the price.

"But how do people even find you?" asked Michael. "Are you like in the yellow pages under ‘ghostbusters’ or something?"

"It’s easy to find us if you really want to," said Geoff. "Most people in this world believe in the supernatural, even if they don’t always want to admit it. And a lot of them will witness a supernatural event of some kind in their life. So when you’ve seen an alf, it’s easy to find someone else who’s seen an alf, and that person knows someone who knows us. Word of mouth, keeps us out of the spotlight, works like a charm."

"Why do you do it though?" asked Michael as he looked over Geoff’s shoulder at whatever he was cooking that evening. It looked like soup, but who knew what he had put in it -their fridge had been empty for two days. "It barely gives you enough money to feed yourselves."

"We have our reasons," said Geoff flatly. Back to skirting around the answer. Maybe Michael had gone a little too far… but he didn’t back off.

"I don’t think there’s anything on this planet that would make me want to fucking kill super-charged creatures for a living—"

"Well, whoop-dee-fucking doo. Enjoy your care-free existence. I’m telling you : we have our reasons, we don’t do it because we’re self-sacrificing idiots."

Michael hesitated a second before asking, tightly, “What are your reasons?”

Geoff’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Curiosity killed the cat, Michael. Go bother someone else. I’m busy.”

Michael hastily complied, leaving Geoff to stare angrily at their dinner. He went to sit next to Ray on the couch, the -very alive and therefore probably uncurious- blueish-black cat sitting quietly on an armchair that Gavin should have been occupying (but he was sitting on the ground and shouting at Ray as they played Mario Party).

It was true that this job barely put food on the table for the four guys, and now they had Michael to feed, too. Up until now Michael had lived off the money his parents had left behind, and he had emptied his bank account to come to Austin.

Now he was forced to rely on the guys ; they’d even bought him clothes, and ever since Michael had let it slip that he had been forced to give up his cell phone for lack of money, Geoff had hinted about buying him a new one -a cheap one, but still. And none of them had asked him to pull his weight. They’d seen he needed help, so they had simply given him help. They hadn’t even stopped to think about it.

Michael was essentially a freeloader living off good people’s hard work. He’d come here looking for advice, but it looked like he had found himself a free home, offered without conditions and without concessions by four guys who risked their lives on a regular basis. That wasn’t right.

He stood up and went back to Geoff.

"I told you to fuck off."

"I want to come with you on missions," said Michael resolutely.

Geoff turned to look at him with his tired eyes, leaving his soup to bubble without supervision.

"On missions? Killing alfs? You just told me you wouldn’t do it."

"Yeah, well. I changed my mind."

The ladle Geoff had been using was slowly sinking into the soup, forgotten.

"Why?"

"Reasons," answered Michael immediately.

Geoff had a small laugh. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? All right… Just remember : you have to listen to everything I say. No questions asked, no whining, no disobedience.”

"I remember."

"Then… I guess it’s time we get you a sword. I’ll take you tomorrow."

Geoff turned back to the dinner and unleashed a string of curses as he plunged his fingers into it to reach for the sunken ladle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night Michael didn’t sleep.

He was excited but worried, elated but frightened. He wasn’t sure he had made the right choice but he couldn’t go up to Geoff tomorrow and say “ha, t’was all a joke! I’m really a coward!”

Laying flat on his back and looking up at the cobweb-infested ceiling, Michael ruminated. He really needed to learn impulse-control. He should have thought about it more before running headfirst into danger.

At least Gavin had been thrilled to learn about this. He might be the only one out of the four guys who genuinely liked Michael ; he hadn’t been shy to show his happiness, and it had warmed Michael’s heart a little. Ray and Jack had been more restrained, though in Ray’s case it seemed it was more out of apathy than out of worry that Michael might fuck it all up.

The next day, it was with sleep-encrusted eyes that Michael climbed into Geoff’s truck. Everyone was coming along for the ride and he found himself stuck between Ray and Gavin in the back of the car.

"God damn it Ray," he grumbled. "You take a lot of place for a tiny gnome."

"You shut your mouth," ordered Ray.

"Can we stick you into the car? It’ll be like Knight Rider!"

"I will kill you in your sleep."

Michael laughed. Ray’s threats never felt threatening, despite the fact that his eyes were a little too bright as they stared at Michael without blinking.

They parked and walked to a thin street filled with tiny shops, most of them looking like they barely managed to stay solvent ; the kind of shops where the owner would practically beg you to buy stuff. Geoff stopped in front of a library selling worn books that piled up behind the window in complete chaos.

Michael read “110 Insects In Your Garden” off the spine of one book.

"Is that where you get swords?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope," said Geoff, and he clicked his fingers and disappeared.

"Should have known," said Michael to himself as Gavin, Jack and Ray vanished in turn. He followed them out of reality.

Up until now, the Otherworld had simply been a perfect replica of the normal world -only grey and weirdly magical. But here, the moment Michael left the normal world, the old bookshop was not a bookshop anymore. 

The outside of the building looked exactly the same, though now painted with that dull Otherworld grey, but through the -now bookless- windows Michael could see brightly colored wallpaper, wooden floorboards and a giant chandelier which appeared to be made of gold. He gaped at the warm and pleasant colors and glanced behind him, but it was definitely the one and only shop around that wasn’t grey.

Geoff was already inside. The rest of them hastened to follow him, making a tiny bell ring as they pushed the door.

The shop was filled with magical objects. Small figurines of men and animals made of wood or marble were moving, walking, some of them running along the surface of three round coffee tables pressed against a wall. On the highest shelves, books were arranged neatly in alphabetical order and Michael recognized several of them, having seen copies in Jack’s trunk. Some were in Latin, some in unknown languages.

Hourglasses filled up yet another shelf ; they were filled with golden sand that was slowly leaving the bottom part and flying up to rest in the top part. At the very top of a large mahogany wardrobe, two wicker baskets were hissing like snakes, and at its feet, almost hidden in its shadow, three green mice were too busy drinking milk out of a large, white bowl to notice the five intruders. On Michael's right a glass cabinet was displaying white and gold knives alongside dried animal parts and plants that looked poisonous.

The very high ceiling was a giant mirror. Michael got a bad case of vertigo when he looked up ; it was so disorientating he felt like he was falling even though he was standing still.

From behind the counter a door opened, and a young woman with red hair and a bright smile stepped out. Around her feet, two of the whitest cats Michael had ever seen rubbed themselves on her calves as she walked.

"Hallo, Geoff!" she greeted happily.

"Hey, Lindsay" said Geoff, leaning against the counter.

The two white cats jumped on top of it and came to purr around Geoff and Jack until they pet them.

"What can I do for you?" asked Lindsay. "Oh, newcomer!" she said as she saw Michael.

"Hi."

"Hey, Lindsay!" said Gavin, waving.

"Hey, Gav. Every time you come here I’m surprised to see you’re still alive." She turned to Michael. "I’m guessing you’re the customer?"

"Michael wants to try hunting," said Jack, scratching a cat behind the ears.

"Oooh, nice!" said Lindsay. "So, sword? Armor? Charms?"

"Sword will be enough," said Geoff.

"Ah yes." Lindsay looked at Jack, and for half a second Michael thought he saw her eyes turn red. "You guys use Alchemy, not charms. You, Jacqueline, are going to put me out of business, you know. Why do you still refuse to work for me?"

"Sorry," said Jack with an affable smile.

"All right, so, sword!" said Lindsay brightly. "Come along, little lamb —touch him again and it will be he last thing you ever did," she suddenly growled.

"What?!" Michael hadn’t touched a single thing but he still brought his hands closer. Lindsay was fucking scary when she growled -her smile hadn’t even slipped off her lips.

"Not you, Michael," she said, suddenly a lot sweeter. "Her."

She pointed at one of the white cats who had hopped off the counter and had been pawing at one of the green mouse, who was flailing silently but desperately. The other two had ran away.

The cat released the mouse and retreated, hanging its head in something that might have been shame.

"What an obedient cat," commented Michael to himself.

It was such a banal thing to say that when everyone started laughing Michael looked around for something funny to laugh at. When he realized they were laughing at him and blinked confusedly at everyone.

"What?"

"They’re not cats," said Ray.

Lindsay nodded, still smiling. Michael wondered if her lips were naturally like this, permanently curled upwards.

"They’re several steps above your average matou."

"Huh…?"

"They’re Margotines."

"Gesundheit," said Michael flatly.

"Margotine cats are alfs, Michael," said Geoff.

Lindsay nodded. “Born from the unholy coupling of a Fairy Queen and a puss in boots.”

"What?" choked out Michael. "Fucking… what?!"

"It’s not that surprising, fairies put their parts in everything that moves," said Ray with a contemptuous sneer.

"It’s what the legend says, anyway," said Lindsay. "Who knows the real answer."

"Oh…" Michael watched the shameful white cat jump back up on the counter and rub itself against Lindsay as if to offer apologies. "Is the big black cat a Margotine too?" he wondered.

"Margotines are white," said Lindsay. "What cat are you talking about?"

"Well…not a Margotine, then," said Michael. "It’s a black cat with blue eyes."

The others were looking kind of blank, which Michael assumed meant their cat was just a normal cat. He quickly changed the subject, fed up with being the ignorant newbie.

"Can we go get a sword now?"

"Sure," said Lindsay easily. She invited them with a wave to walk behind the counter and follow her through the door she had left minutes earlier.

The room Michael stepped into was as grey as everything else in the Otherworld -except for the swords. Several hundreds of them were mounted on three of the walls, all of a different shape and color scheme, some even looked made of glass. Michael whistled between his teeth.

"Did you make those?" he asked in wonder.

"I did," said Lindsay proudly. "Now. Spread your arms."

She didn’t even touch him. She walked around him, looking at him from every angle, her blue-grey eyes sometimes flashing that exact same red color as her hair. Michael could see Ray and Gavin out of the corner of his eye whispering to each other.

"I think I can do something for you," said Lindsay finally. "Click your fingers."

Michael did, and then a sword was suddenly in his right palm, wooden hilt thick and warm in his hand. It took him entirely by surprise and its weight made him drop it to the ground where it fell with a metallic clatter.

Lindsay laughed and picked it up as if it weighed nothing.

"You’ll need to train that little one," she said.

"Oh we will," promised Geoff. "He’s already proven he can be stupid, I’m not letting him out of my sight."

"You say the nicest things," grumbled Michael, taking the sword as Lindsay offered it to him.

It fit perfectly in Michael’s hand. The wooden hilt was carved with beautiful swirling patterns ; the blade was metallic, but there was a slight red tint to it. It was broad and thick, and curved at the end in a way that reminded Michael of a pirate’s cutlass.

He looked at Lindsay in admiration. “Did you just make it?”

"Of course, silly."

"How… Are you an alf?" he asked. "Are you… wait, are you a witch?"

Lindsay’s permanent smile dissolved in a blink and suddenly turned into a nasty snarl. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

"Rude," she growled, her voice low and threatening.

"Watch your tone," scolded Geoff angrily.

"I’m sorry!" said Michael quickly. "I didn’t, huh, mean to offend. I just… hum."

"I’m a Tiffenot," said Lindsay with dignity. "A fae, not a stupid human who thought it would be a good idea to sell their souls to the first shadow they see."

"Never mind this rude asshole." Geoff pushed Michael out of the way. "What do I owe you?"

"Hmmm…" Lindsay paused to think about it. She glanced at Michael one more time, as if his physical appearance factored into the price of the sword. "I want candy," she said finally.

Prepared like a fucking boyscout, Geoff fished a small packet of skittles out of his pocket. Lindsay’s scowl was gone. Her smile was brighter than ever as she snatched the candies, her pupils round with delight, a blood-red tongue darting out to lick her lips in anticipation.

"Awesome. Thanks Geoff!"

Geoff smiled sort of fondly. “You’re welcome. Everyone’s done?” he asked, looking around.

"Yup", said Gavin and Ray in unison.

"Going back. Michael, put your sword away, it’ll break in the real world."  And Geoff clicked his fingers and vanished.

"Huh…" Michael hesitated. "Shouldn’t we walk out of the shop before going back?"

"Nope," said Ray, a twinkle in his eyes.

Michael took a second to figure out how to make his sword disappear like Geoff’s did, which meant he was the last one to leave the Otherworld, alone with Lindsay who was still sniffing her skittles. He raised his hand to click his fingers and was ready to go when her eyes suddenly snapped to him.

"Does Geoff still wakes up in the night?" she asked.

Michael stared for a second. “He… sleepwalks… if that’s what you mean…”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes unblinking. “Have they explained it to you?”

"Explain what?"

But Lindsay seemed lost in her own thoughts. “He might not have noticed. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him.”

"… All right," said Michael uneasily. Damn, Lindsay was creepy. "I’m-I’m gonna… go…"

"Don’t tell him about this, it was a mistake. And don’t let him touch the gold," warned Lindsay.

"They lock the door." Michael had no idea why he said this, but it seemed to please Lindsay.

He finally clicked his fingers and Lindsay was replaced by reality.

The bookshop appeared in all its old and decrepit glory ; in any way it was less colorful than Lindsay’s shop. There was an old man sitting at a table, his eyes white with cataract, his frame small and hunched. A sign in front of him was saying “I know the truth to everything”.

Geoff was waiting with his arms crossed. Unconcerned by the old man, he snapped at Michael.

"Don’t ever call Lindsay a witch. Ever again."

"I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t know," grumbled Michael uneasily. "She’s touchy, ain’t she…"

"Michael," Geoff drawled, "use your brain for a second. If she makes everyone a personal sword, what were all the swords on her wall for? She doesn’t sell those."

"…Huh?"

"Your sword remains behind when you die," said Geoff.

On that, he turned around and walked out of the gloomy shop. Michael stared stupidly after him.

"What Lindsay gives," said Gavin, suddenly standing by his side, "Lindsay gets back, even if you paid her. If she likes you, you might keep all your stuff until you die naturally. If not… a human life doesn’t mean much to alfs."

"Jesus Christ…" breathed Michael. He considered going back and giving Lindsay her sword back, get himself out of any deal he had unknowingly made with her, but decided against it. He might as well learn to fight first. 

He had been thinking about telling Gavin about what Lindsay had said, if only to laugh at how weird she was, but knowing that she could basically break his spine if he so much as looked at her wrong made him reconsider. He better do as she instructed and keep this weird conversation to himself. 

As they walked past him the old man kept staring into nothing. Honestly if his chest hadn’t been moving Michael would have thought he was a corpse.

"Does he?" Michael asked Gavin.

"What?"

"Know the truth to everything."

"Dunno. Ask him."

Michael did. The old man’s milky-white eyes seemed to be looking right at him when he said,

"No."

Gavin smothered his laugh behind his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sword training was fucking hard.

Geoff seemed to think fighting dirty was going to make Michael progress faster. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but after days of being beaten up by the flat side of the black blade, Michael was hurting from everywhere and almost ready to call it quits and go back to Jersey, loneliness be damned.

Thankfully Jack always had remedies, some potion to make bruises evaporate and kill headaches, though Michael couldn’t take too much of it.

"Elixirs are dangerous in strong doses," said Jack.

"Fucking bruises too," groaned Michael, looking down at a big hematoma on his upper arm. "Hurts like a bitch!"

"That’s because you’re a bitch," said Geoff casually as he opened the fridge to grab beer.

He threw a bottle at him but Michael’s stiff, painful arms didn’t move fast enough. He yelped as it hit just above his eye and created yet another bruise.

"Fuck! Geoff!!"

"Sorry!" Geoff said without sounding sorry at all. Michael gave him the darkest look he could out of only one eye.

Gavin was always ready to help Michael with his training.

"You gotta stab a lot," he said wisely, "with the pointy end."

"Thank you so much," said Michael, voice oozing with sarcasm.

"No but really! It’s all there is to it."

"You know, I’m starting to understand why Lindsay was so surprised to see you still alive."

"Awww, Micoo!" squawked Gavin.

Michael often thought that if an idiot like Gavin could fight alfs then it surely was not that difficult.

Ray never had any advice to give and Michael liked it. The happiness he’d first felt when Geoff had taken him under his wing was starting to fade and being replaced by annoyance at being constantly monitored and treated like an idiot ; but Ray didn’t give a shit about all that.

The strong “I don’t care” vibes he was throwing around were contagious. Michael took to watch him play every night, often staying way past midnight. They talked about stupid things nobody cared about, things that had nothing to do with alfs or swords. But sometimes Ray would play a game depicting ghosts or other supernatural creatures and criticize the hell out of it. It was way more entertaining to learn things by watching someone hurl insults at a TV screen rather than by getting hit over the head with a sword.

"Why do so many games have someone opening a portal to Hell by mistake, you can’t open a portal by mistake, it’s a whole fucking thing!! This game’s bullshit—oh, and I’m dead. I fucking suck. Just put me back in a mirror already. No, put me in a dog turd."

"I can put you in cat turd right now," said Michael, pointing at the cat who was sitting in a corner and staring at him, as per usual.

Ray glanced towards the cat and frowned slightly, as if he hadn’t understood what Michael had just said, but his eyes got sucked back towards the screen and he unleashed some more swearwords.

Michael watched the imp get more and more agitated and laughed until there were tears in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeble light of the candles was snuffed out as the door to the laboratory swung open.

"Come on, Michael!" shouted Gavin. "Geoff says you can come on tonight’s mission!"

Pushed by a rush of excitement, Michael set aside the book he’d been distractedly reading (“Portals” said the title in golden letters. It was filled with theories about how to open portals to other dimensions, including Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, and others Michael didn’t know. So far, all portals required blood and pain, sometimes death.) and he bolted out of the room.

"You’re gonna like it," said Geoff, handing a backpack to Jack who set himself to filling it up with all sorts of glass bottles.

"Why?" asked Michael, looking at one particular bottle that contained nothing but dirt.

"It’s your friends. The ones you were harassing when we found you."

Oh no.

"Wait!" Michael grabbed Geoff’s arm. "The giant brute? I thought you killed it!"

"Dude, I was alone that night. I don’t fight giant ghosts alone. I just distracted it while Jack repaired your skull."

"But-… You want me to fight that?!"

"No, I want you to look and see how it’s done."

"But he was a giant massive dude!" said Michael emphatically. He had the feeling Geoff was not getting the whole (big, angry, *deadly*) picture.

"That’s why we’re going, moron. He almost killed two people last night, we can’t ignore it any longer. And his two kids are still stuck here, the poor bastards can’t leave until their dad’s put down. They need to be exorcised and rest in peace."

Michael remembered the two kid ghosts standing behind him that night and shuddered in disgust, thinking about how they must have died.

"Ray?" called Jack at the imp playing on the couch, as usual. "You wanna come with us?"

Ray’s eyes darted away from the screen for half a second. “Dunno. Is it dangerous?”

"It’s always dangerous."

"Yes but is it actually dangerous?"

"Ray. If you wanna see Michael piss his pants live, you can come. If not, you can stay."

"Kinky," laughed Ray. He set his controller down. "All right. Guess I’m coming then."

Twenty minutes later Geoff was parking his pickup truck by the side of the road. The bridge on which Michael had been walking several weeks ago was quiet and empty, no sign of any ghost. It was a peaceful evening… at least until they started walking on the bridge and the ghost that had almost killed Michael appeared on their path, a monolith of a man built all in muscles and rage and ghostiness.

Michael felt his legs turn to stone and stop, stuck to the ground. The ghost saw them and immediately lunged for them with a roar, his one eye fixed on Michael and large arms grabbing for him.

Without warning Geoff grabbed Michael none too gently, threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and clicked his fingers. The second they were in the Otherworld he kicked his feet and left the ground, taking Michael up with him. Jack, Ray and Gavin had all scattered apart and the ghost found nothing to grab. It turned around with a snarl.

Geoff quickly put Michael back down next to Jack, shouting “You stay inside the circle!”

Michael sat stupidly on the ground, dumbfounded and not seeing any circle. The guys had all moved so fucking quickly, he barely had time to register what was happening while they were already in combat-mode, moving like a well-oiled machine, so swift and slick it almost gave him motion-sickness. Jack was taking the bottle of dirt out of his backpack and quickly poured its content around Michael in a big circle. As soon as it touched the ground, the dirt started glowing with a light green gleam. Jack stepped inside.

"Don’t leave," he said. "It’s a protection. Let them do."

Michael nodded, his eyes going to the rest of the guys. Geoff and Gavin were in a staring contest with the ghost, the both of them with their sword in their hands. Ray had disappeared. A few alfs could be seen running away from the fight, small creatures and tall shadows slithering out of sight.

Gavin caught the ghost’s attention and started running along the bridge at break-neck speed. His clumsiness forgotten, he easily avoided a blow from the ghost, dancing around it, while Geoff took off into the air again. He swirled and took a hairpin turn, and dove head-first towards the ghost while it was focused on Gavin.

The cracks in Geoff’s blade started to glow with a dark green light as its owner rocketed downwards. It seemed to be going straight for the ghost’s skull and was a second away from sinking into it, when something dark and moving far too fast for Michael to see threw itself at Geoff with a shrill, horrible screeching noise.

The thing pushed Geoff off-course, sending him flying into a tree. Michael cried out and bolted out of the circle but Jack grabbed him with his one hand and pulled him back.

"He told you not to get out!" he shouted, but Michael would have thought Geoff almost dying would fucking annul all previously-given orders. He still stayed inside the circle, because he was scared shitless of the mass of ethereal rage now trying to kill Gavin. 

But Gavin had taken less than a second to process what had happened, reacting fast as lightning as he ran around the ghost and managed to cut into its back with his own blade, the thin rapier sinking into the flesh as if it were solid. The ghost yelped in pain and anguish as Gavin twisted his rapier and cut deeper and deeper. Until, with an almost comical ‘pop’, the ghost exploded in a puff of smoke as if a magician had exited the stage.

At the same moment, the dark blurry thing reappeared out of nowhere and threw itself towards Michael who screamed and stumbled into Jack. But the circle on the ground acted like a shield, enveloping Jack and Michael in an invisible bubble, and the thing hit it hard, sending a shockwave of energy around it. It shrieked again, a horrible sound that melted Michael’s brain, and it disappeared.

And just like that, there was only silence. No mean ghost anymore, no more blurry things screeching. The two kids had disappeared too. 

There was a beat, a moment of nothing, before Gavin took a deep breath and looked around anxiously.

"Geoff!" he called.

Jack hopped out of the circle and joined Gavin. “Geoff! Where are you?”

Michael’s legs felt weak as he stepped out of the glowing circle. The hair on his arms were standing up and he felt a little bit sick, suddenly reminded of how violent this job was. Geoff’s training lessons looked like an amusement park next to an actual ghost. Fucking Gavin certainly knew how to fight, there was no doubt anymore.

To everyone’s relief, Geoff emerged from behind a grey tree with Ray by his side, the imp helping him as he seemed to have hurt his ankle.

"What happened, man?" asked Jack, rushing to him.

"I don’t fucking know… I think another ghost fucking tackled me."

"Another?" Gavin looked around him. "But the kids aren’t violent and there’s no one else…"

"Whatever," groaned Geoff, obviously annoyed. "Michael!" he barked as he saw him. "What are you doing here?"

"Huh—"

"Go back in the circle right now! Gavin, take care of the kids."

"Sure."

With a last worried glance at Geoff, Gavin took off.

Michael watched him, too curious to listen to Geoff and go back to safety. He wanted to see an actual exorcism. Would there be Latin chants?

Alone in the middle of the bridge, Gavin spread out his arms on either side of himself, concentrating. Slowly, the two kids appeared before him, coming into focus like fog solidifying, standing exactly like Michael had first seen them. Side by side and blank, dead eyes looking right ahead.Their flesh wasn’t transparent here but they looked as ethereal as ever.

Gavin lowered his arms and, like the pope giving a blessing, his movements heavy with meaning, he touched the girl’s forehead with two joined fingers. She closed her eyes. And did nothing. 

Gavin frowned. Michael looked back at Jack and Ray who were busy with Geoff, and back at Gavin who decidedly seemed bothered by something. Had he forgotten how to exorcise or something?

"Guys," said Michael. "Guys, I think something’s wr—"

Before he could finish the girl’s arm had shot out and hit Gavin in the middle of the chest. He was thrown into the air like Geoff, flying several feet back and away from the kids. He landed hard and stayed down.

"Holy shit!" yelled Michael. "Guys!"

"Go back inside the circle right now," ordered Geoff as he pushed Jack and Ray away from him. He kicked his one healthy foot on the ground and sprung into the air, summoning his sword in the same movement.

Jack now ran to Gavin, and Michael turned towards the green circle.

He couldn’t take a step. The horrible screech rang again and something pounced on him and sent him face-first to the ground. He tasted blood as he rolled to his back to see what had attacked him. It was one of the kids, and the boy didn’t wait before jumping onto Michael’s chest, his bony knees pressing down on his diaphragm. Michael looked into the hollow eyes and panic soared ; he tried to push the kid off, to hurt him with his nails. It took him too long to remember he had a fucking sword, and summoned it just in time to block the boy’s hand coming right at his head.His open palm felt terribly cold and Michael’s fear doubled.

"The fuck are you trying to do?" he gritted out. "Get off me you freak!"

Michael’s lungs were being crushed. The boy seemed to weigh several tons and kept pushing against Michael’s sword, not caring about how it sunk slowly into his ethereal flesh. The dead blank eyes were looking straight at Michael’s. The grey around him was being smothered in black.

A streak of color sprung out of nowhere. The pressure on Michael’s chest disappeared. He still couldn’t draw a breath. Someone was shouting something. But blackness was eating the world, until there was nothing at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael opened his eyes to white. White as far as his eyes could see.

He was standing up, and there was the cat. The fucking big black cat with its blue eyes, sitting quietly in front of him and looking as calm and interested as a mild-mannered scientist.

"Okay…" whispered Michael. His voice echoed as if he’d screamed and he flinched to hear his own word thrown back at him. "Fucking… What am I doing here? Is this a dream?" He frowned at the cat. "Yeah… not great as far as dreams go."

"I am not thrilled about this either."

Michael blinked at the cat. “Did you just talk to me?”

"I believe I did."

Talking cat. Why not. He’d had crazier dreams.

Except now he was starting to feel really uncomfortable. There was an unpleasant tingling in his spine, the kind of tingling that didn’t bode anything good, the kind he felt whenever a violent alf was around. And the cat kept staring at him, and Michael wondered if he was in a coma and what was happening to the rest of the guys. God, he hoped he wasn’t dead, because this certainly was not heaven. At best it was purgatory, and it sucked.

He tried summoning his sword but nothing happened. Michael cleared his throat. “Is this a dream? Why the hell are you even here?”

"I was summoned," said the cat.

"Summoned," repeated Michael. "By your owners?"

"I have but one master."

"Whatever," said Michael, vaguely wondering why the hell was he talking to a fucking dream cat. "I have things to do. I need to wake the fuck up. You go back to nowhere-land or wherever it is you’ve come from…"

"There is no nowhere out of which I can appear."

Michael frowned. “Right… Where do you come from, then?”

"I was summoned," repeated the cat calmly. "Someone is trying to bring you back, you should wake up."

Michael woke up with a start, a drowning man’s gasp filling his burning lungs.

Two blue eyes were staring down at him -not the cat’s though. Those were on the face of a man who, Michael’s spidey-sense was telling him, was not a man. The very apparent grey veins on his temples and the white of his skin gave him a creepy dead-man-walking look.

"Something’s following you," said the man.

"You, for one," grumbled Michael. His hand twitched and he felt the hilt of his sword in his palm.

He struck out but the man had anticipated his move and had already jumped out of harm’s way. Michael scrambled to his feet, red sword twitching in all the surrounding grey. The man raised both his hands in surrender, lips thinning, looking at the tip of the blade and ready to dodge another blow. 

They weren’t on the bridge anymore but somewhere in a forest ; Michael could only hope it was the one just after the bridge and he hadn’t been teleported to Alaska or something while he was unconscious.

"Who are you?" asked Michael. He was trying very hard to make himself sound authoritative and hoped it was working. "And don’t tell me you were summoned."

"I… don’t think I was," said the man, slightly puzzled.

"Yeah… okay," said Michael. "That’s good. I think."

He let his senses spread a little further and was relieved to pick up the guys’ traces, their presence lighting up in his mind. They were alive and running around, and before long Jack’s deep voice was shouting his name through the trees. Michael wasn’t sure shouting back was a good idea.

"You’re with the ghosts?" he asked. "What are you?"

"I’m not with any of them," said the man. His voice was calm and measured, trying to appease Michael. "I’m not sure what I am. I don’t want to harm you, though, so maybe you could lower that sword?"

Michael’s answer was to point his sword a little higher still. The man twitched uncomfortably and his blue eyes darted briefly towards a point behind Michael. As much as he loathed taking his eyes off that weird creature, Michael looked over his shoulder. 

Gavin had appeared there in-between two trees, out of breath, his thin green rapier in his hand and a questioning look on his face. Michael’s answer to that was to shrug uncertainly. A second later the rest of the gang arrived, all in various states of dishevelment -even, surprisingly, Ray.

It took a fraction of a second for Geoff to assess the situation, and then he was standing in front of Michael with his own black blade held at the alf’s throat and Michael felt a wave of relief wash over him. At last, someone who knew what to do!

"Who are you?" barked Geoff at the alf as Gavin, Ray and Jack all ran to Michael and silently looked him up and down, looking for injuries.

"My name’s Ryan. I saw you lot struggling with the ghosts and thought I could help. I took the boy off him" he pointed at Michael,"while you were busy with the girl."

"Why?"

"Hum…" Ryan seemed thrown off, his hands lowering a little. "Because you could use the help?"

So this man was definitely an alf of some kind, probably powerful if he got that creepy kid to fuck off ; but Michael did not feel frightened in the slightest. Confronted with the three ghosts earlier, he’d hate to admit it but he had been terrified. The brute supernatural force they had exuded had been paralyzing in its intensity and it froze Michael’s blood in his veins.

This dude, though? Looked totally harmless. Just odd enough to make Michael’s senses tingle.

Michael lowered his sword. Geoff didn’t budge. He was only standing on one foot but he still looked steady and ready to kill.

"Thank you," breathed Ryan in Michael’s direction.

"You’re not off the hook" said Geoff. "Do you know what’s happening around here? Why did the kids attack? They were supposed to be peaceful!"

"I don’t know! I don’t go around making small-talk with crazy ghosts, do I!"

"Why did you take Michael here?"

"Something is following him," repeated Ryan. "I can just smell it on him. I wanted to see if I could lose whatever’s after him."

Geoff’s eyes briefly darted towards Michael.

"Don’t look at me, I’ve got no idea!" Michael was lost, a little bit scared, and he was starting to hurt from everywhere. He really wasn’t ready to add one more problem to his list and he hoped really, really hard that Ryan just had a weird sense of humor, and the thing following him was a butterfly or something.

"Ray?" asked Geoff, but the imp looked confused.

"I never smelt anything out of the ordinary."

Geoff looked back towards the alf.

"Did you lose whatever’s after him?"

"I don’t know," said Ryan. "I only briefly caught a whiff of it, I can’t smell it anymore but that doesn’t mean anything."

"Awesome," groaned Michael.

Geoff wasn’t moving. “You didn’t tell me what you are.”

"He said he doesn’t know," said Michael.

"I didn’t ask you."

Geoff’s voice was suddenly hard and sharp with anger, and the words washed over Michael like icy cold water poured over his head.

Gavin’s hand touched his gently, as if asking him not to say anything, but Michael couldn’t help it. “What—”

"Shut up. You don’t know what you are, Ryan?"

"No, not really… I never needed to know, only humans ask for a birth certificate…"

Geoff’s sword slowly moved away from the alf’s throat.

"All right," he said, visibly relaxing. If Michael didn’t feel threatened by Ryan then surely Geoff didn’t either. 

Jack stepped in. “Thank you for saving his life.”

"You’re welcome," said Ryan humbly.

"Michael?" Under Geoff’s harsh tone Michael straightened up like a soldier ready to be court-martialed. The icy blue eyes were burning with anger when they fell on him. "I told you not to get out of the circle."

"I—what?!" spluttered Michael. "I wanted to check up on you, that’s all!"

"You gave me your word. You were going to listen to me."

"The ghost was dead! It was over!"

"Didn’t look very over when the kid tried to slash your throat," said Ray in his monotone voice.

Fucking traitor. Michael wanted to turn around and throw him a death glare but right now, Geoff’s very own death glare was about ready to succeed and actually make Michael drop dead in a combination of fear and humiliation.

"Was it over?" In the silence of the Otherworld, Geoff’s voice split the air like thunder. He tried to get a word in but Geoff cut him off. "I told you before : we don’t do this job out of selflessness. When I told you you had to follow my order it’s not just for your useless ass’ security, it’s for ours too! I don’t want to fucking die saving you from a stupid mistake that could have been avoided. Get that through your thick fucking skull, and then start wracking your brain because if something’s following you, you probably brought it inside our house!"

Oh shit. Michael hadn’t even thought about that.

Now he wasn’t just scared, he was also suddenly crushed with guilt. He tried to think, very quickly, about anything out of the ordinary -fucking hell, everything he’d experienced those past three weeks had been out of the ordinary! His whole life was out of the ordinary.

There was this weird-ass dream, though.

"The—the cat," he stuttered.

"What cat?"

"You guys’ cat. I think it was a dream. It talked to me while I was unconscious— why are you looking at me like that?"

Jack, Ray, Geoff and Gavin had all raised their eyebrows in almost perfect synchronization, and were now looking at Michael with a look of complete bewilderment.

"What cat, Michael?" asked Jack, his voice already gentler than Geoff’s.

"Your cat! Big fucking black cat with lots of hair and a weird tail who sleeps on your couch and follows me aro—oh."

Michael’s mouth hung open on his last word. The guys were still looking at him.

Gavin said softly, “We don’t have a cat,” and Michael wanted to be swallowed by the earth.

He cleared his throat.

"So there’s a demon-cat in your apartment and you can’t see it."

Geoff facepalmed and Michael cringed. Here came the shouts.

"It didn’t seem odd to you that we have a cat we never feed? Never interact with? Never even look at?!"

"He looked pretty chill, I figured it was one of those cats who can fend of for themselves!" defended Michael, and it was a really stupid defense. He deserved the contemptuous look Geoff was giving him right now. 

"Let’s go."

"Bye," said Ryan simply, waving gently.

Geoff had already disappeared. Michael followed.

It was the first time he’d spent more than an hour in the Otherworld ; the return to sounds, smells and colors made his mind shrink in pain. But he didn’t have the time to adjust, Gavin was already pushing him towards the car.

"I think Ryan’s possessed," said Jack, almost to himself as the car sped off. "Well, he was. I’m guessing the human part of him died."

"How do you know?" asked Gavin.

"I observed," said Jack quietly. Ryan’s predicament seemed to sadden him greatly.

"So it means there’s a spirit inside him?" asked Michael.

"Could be. He could also be a body someone’s used as a puppet in the past and then abandoned. If the possession lasts too long the human part of you dies. As soon as whoever’s controlling you leaves you, you’re nothing but a blank body with no memory of your former life. I’m surprised he’s that cognizant and has retained magical abilities, he must have been possessed by something stupid or clumsy enough to leave things behind."

Gavin and Ray nodded in understanding. Michael decided against asking more questions -he would read about all that later. For now, he was feeling too beaten down and worried to act like an eager student, and Geoff was pulling up before the building.

They ran up the stairs, even Geoff and his twisted ankle. They barrelled inside, turning on the lightbulb that was swinging from the ceiling.

"Where is it?" asked Geoff.

Michael’s eyes were already roaming the place.

"I don’t see it," he panted miserably. "It’s not there all the time anyway…"

Geoff gave him a pointed look, as if he was half-convinced Michael was lying and the cat was actually standing right in front of him.

Jack was examining their front door. “I don’t get it. How can an alf get past this? It’s got iron, marigold, sigils, salt ,rowan wood… I need to see Lindsay,” he grumbled, and he walked out.

Geoff turned to Michael. “You go hit the books. Find that cat. I want a detailed description and I want it fast. You brought it in, you’re gonna help get it out.”

Michael opened his mouth, indignation ready to fire out of it. But he closed it quickly. Yeah, he had brought that cat in. And he was not an asshole, he didn’t want to leave them with a potentially dangerous demon-pet they couldn’t see.

He went to Jack’s laboratory, slamming the door behind him as noisily as he could, and busied himself going through the trunk to the sound of the guys’ mumbling voices seeping through the walls.

Here, out of sight and with only his own thoughts as company, the embarrassment he’d felt earlier grew into shame, and the fear morphed into apathetic terror. His heart clenched painfully at the thought, but what could he do against a demon-cat nobody but him could see? Something that was following him, that could be deadly, and did not care for any anti-alf protections? 

He opened the trunk and fished around. So many fucking books, and so many of them about cats. Michael was going to have to get organized.

Sitting in the middle of the room he put the books in piles around him, going from the most relevant to the least. After the second book, he got a pen and paper to write down everything that could be useful. After the tenth one, he had almost filled up enough pages to make another fucking book. After the fifteenth, he realized he had lost all track of time.

His stomach was growling with all its might. He couldn’t hear any voices anymore, he wondered what the guys were doing. Maybe he should take a peek, see if the cat was back…

But there was a gentle knock at the door, and before Michael could say anything Geoff and Gavin let themselves in. They stood there without a word, looking at him as Michael looked back at them.

"Found anything?" asked Geoff finally. His voice was a lot gentler.

"A lot of things." Michael pointed at the stack of papers.

"Cats are popular in mythology," said Gavin wisely.

"What do you want?" asked Michael. "I’m not finished yet, so…"

"Well…" started Gavin. "Jack’s alf-proofing the apartment a little more, and Ray’s gone to the Otherworld to see if he can find the cat roaming around… So, we don’t have anything to do, thought we could help you. Also, this."

He raised his hand, which was holding a wrapped-up sandwich. Like a peace-offering he held it out to Michael, whose stomach gave an earnest growl.

Geoff took a resigned breath and came to sit in front of Michael, snatching the stack of papers. Gavin hopped over and sat by his side, and grabbed a book.

They read in silence, Geoff sometimes asking Michael questions about his notes while Gavin showed him passages of the books to get confirmation on this or that. Michael was happy to answer, relieved that the shouting had stopped, even if he still felt a mix of shame and anger coiling in the deep of his stomach. He almost burst out laughing when he found a picture of a black cat with the caption “Said to bring discord on the households which do not give it milk.”

"Maybe you should douse the house with milk," he mumbled to himself. To his surprise, Geoff giggled.

"That’s what we’ve been missing in all those years fighting alfs. Milk."

"See? I’m not that useless," joked Michael.

"You’re not," said Geoff slowly. He didn’t even look up from his page, but Michael frowned at him. "I just hope you understand why what you did was stupid," Geoff went on, still not looking at him.

"Yeah. I do," assured Michael. "I won’t come with you anymore, anyway. I was scared shitless and I didn’t help at all."

"You weren’t that bad," said Geoff, handwaving Michael’s cowardice away. "You stood up to Ryan without knowing what he was, that was courageous."

"No, it was self-preservation. I don’t have you guys’ courage, I can’t do what you do."

"True courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway." Geoff’s voice was heavy, solemn.

Michael laughed.

"Did you just quote John Wayne?"

"What if I did? Read your book. I want that cat’s head."

A little ball of warmth had lit up in Michael’s chest as he looked back at the pages. He saw a picture that caught all his attention. He frowned and read the text that came with it.

As the words went by under his eyes, he felt his body slowly turn number, colder, and the ball of warmth died. By the time he reached the bottom of the page, sharp little blades of fear were drilling into his spine. His mouth was so dry that when he tried to say Geoff’s name it only came out as a whine. The other two glanced his way in surprise.

"What?" asked Gavin.

Geoff took the book from Michael’s hands. He quickly scanned the pages, his tired blue eyes moving with the speed of bullets. Michael was feeling his throat close as Geoff turned the book around and pointed at a painstakingly detailed pencil drawing.

"That’s the cat?"

Michael nodded.

It was a big black cat with thick fur, eyes that seemed to drill into your soul, and its tail was oddly curved. Michael had never seen it plainly on the actual cat as the animal had always been careful to keep it half-hidden, but upon seeing the drawing it all clicked in his mind : the tail was way too long and tied into a knot. Into a hangman’s noose.

"What?" repeated Gavin, squinting at the picture. "Whaaat! Geoff!"

"It’s a Chat Foireau."

Judging by his expression, Gavin had no idea what that was.

"It is literally a demon cat." Geoff paused briefly. "They reap people’s souls."

"…huh?"

"The thing following Michael. It’s Death."


	3. Chapter 3

_~a month later~_

The city center looked normal enough. Tall buildings and concrete ground, cars and people as far as the eye could see. Everyone mindlessly going about their every day business, things to do, places to be. And then, there was Michael and Ray.

They stood in the middle of the sidewalk, one fixed point in the middle of the neverending flow of early-evening pedestrians. People walked around them grumbling under their breath. Michael didn’t care, he wouldn’t be in their way for long.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, unleashing his mind from the confines of his skull. He took Ray’s wrist, raised his other hand and clicked his fingers. 

The city fell utterly silent. The sudden change made Michael’s ears ring. When he opened his eyes again, the world, though the same shape and form as it usually was, was entirely grey. 

The streets were empty ; no people, and the cars previously driving were resting in the middle of the road, as if abandoned, as if time had stopped. If Michael focused enough, if he cocked his head to the side and squinted, he could see the ghosts of the humans walking by his side or driving the ghosts of their cars, unconcerned by Michael and Ray’s sudden disappearance from reality -nor by the alf the both of them were tracking.

Michael could barely sense it, it was somewhere around… but it was hiding, cloaking itself. The stealthy ones were the worst.

A voice rang out in the silence.

"Michael! Ray! I knew I sensed you."

Michael whirled around to see a man (well, ‘man’…) with blue eyes, pale skin and grey veins starkly visible on his temple, and a smile on his face.

"Hey, dude!" greeted Ray enthusiastically.

"Ryan! You’re not who we’re looking for," said Michael morosely.

"Well, that’s not nice," said Ryan. "I can go away…"

"No, no. Sorry. You just scared the fucking shit out of me…"

Ryan eyed their surroundings attentively.

"So… who are you looking for?"

Around them was only emptiness for now. Creatures of the Otherworld weren’t numerous, to say the least, and thank fuck for that. Michael hated most of those fuckers enough as it were.

"We don’t know what it is yet," answered Ray. "Black silhouette, tall and thin. Glowing white eyes. And it doesn’t fucking do anything, apparently. People who’ve spotted it, mainly kids, just say it looked at them for a moment and then disappeared."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “That’s not good.”

"Yeah. The ones who observe are generally bad news."

"Why are you two all alone for that one?"

"It’s just a first contact," said Ray. "We’re not supposed to attack or anything."

"Why didn’t they send Gavin for that then?"

"Because," answered Michael, "Gavin might be better on a spiritual level but I’m better at fighting. If the thing attacks Geoff wants me to cut it in half. We don’t joke around when kiddies are the targets."

"… And Ray?"

"Hey! I’m good at fighting too!" defended the alf. "…but mostly I pissed Geoff off so he ordered me to go with Michael."

Ryan laughed. “What did you do?”

"Just… might have joked about his smell one time too many."

"Smell?"

"Long story."

They walked along the street, unsubstantial humans living their life on the other side of reality passing by and through them.

They stopped. Michael had just felt something move, an alarm ringing in his mind… He raised his head and caught a glimpse of a black shadow on the roof of a building.

"It’s up there," said Michael quickly.

Ryan took Michael’s hand. “All right. Going up!”

And just like that, in less time than it takes to blink, they were on the roof. 

These teleportation tricks were always extremely disorientating and Michael’s head was still reeling when something threw itself straight at Ray and pushed him to the ground. He screamed in pain and Ryan jumped on the black shadow, throwing it off as Michael summoned his red-tinted sword. He ran towards the alf, sword ready to strike… and then there was nothing. The blade cut through thin air. 

He spun around. Ryan was crouched before Ray, who had both his hands in front of his eyes and was groaning.

"What was that?" cried Michael, running back to them.

"An alf," answered Ryan sensibly. "Let me see, Ray…"

"What do you wanna see, you’re a fucking alf-doctor now?" snapped Ray. Waterfalls of tears were running down his cheeks, but Michael could see no blood.

"We should go home," he said, looking around. "Ryan, can you sense the alf anymore?"

"No. But then I couldn’t sense it earlier either and it was just above our heads."

"It fucking slashed my eyes!" screamed Ray, still hiding behind his hands. "How did it go so fucking fast! I didn’t even see it! And now I can’t see  _anything_!”

"For fuck’s sake…" Michael quickly made his sword disappear. "That was fucking successful. Come on, Ray…"

Him and Ryan both helped the imp back to his feet, taking an elbow each as he kept his eyes hidden. Ryan brought them back on the street below, and Michael made the jump back to the normal world, filled with people and sounds and colors.

They ran to the car, unconcerned by the looks the passer-bys were giving them and Michael floored it back to the decrepit building he called home. He glanced in the rear-view mirror every second, at Ray curled up into Ryan’s side and complaining very loudly about just how much he hated the outside world.

Ryan helped Ray up the stairs to the third floor and Michael was fumbling with his keys when the door opened before he could even touch it. Gavin was on the other side, a great big smile on his face.

"Ryan! I knew I’d sensed you coming up!!" Then he noticed Ray and the smile fell. "Jesus, what happened?!" he screamed, grabbing the imp out of Ryan’s grip and pulling him inside.

Michael quickly looked around the cramped apartment. No sign of a cat.

"Claws happened!" moaned Ray. "Claws at my eyes!"

"JACK!!"

The alchemist ran out of his laboratory. He took one look at Ray and immediately pushed him back into the laboratory, closing the door behind them.

"What happened?" repeated Gavin, turning towards Michael and Ryan.

"Don’t worry like that," said Michael soothingly, "he was joking and complaining all the time, I’m sure he’s fine. Jack’s gonna fix him."

"Did you at least kill the alf that did it?"

Michael gritted his teeth. “The thing disappeared on me.”

"On all of us," corrected Ryan. "Couldn’t sense it, either."

"Oh… well, at least it didn’t attack you, so that’s a good thing," said Gavin.

"Yeah, yeah," sighed Michael, letting his backpack fall to the floor. "But no alf, no money. I don’t even know if we have enough to pay rent this month. "

Gavin seemed worried for a second -but only a second, before a smile came back to his lips.

"I made cookies. Do you want cookies?" And he scuttled to the kitchen.

Michael let himself fall on the couch. He felt wiped, mentally and physically, and he hadn’t even done anything. He seriously didn’t understand why Geoff hadn’t kicked him out yet.

Not only had he brought a demon-cat into their home, something that only Michael could see and that no one seemed to be able to kill, even when Michael pointed at it while Geoff threw things at it (they all magically changed course just before hitting their target), but he was also completely useless. He was dead-weight, and everyone knew it.

And still nobody said anything to him. It was like that whole bridge-debacle had been his initiation ; and in between cowering inside a protective circle, disobeying Geoff and hallucinating cats, Michael must have done something good. He wasn’t sure what it was though... But now everyone had relaxed around him, even Geoff. In fact, the guys seemed to want to protect him. That cat was a bad omen, and even though, as Geoff had said, “Death follows guys like us, with or without a cat,” Michael was rarely alone nowadays. There was always someone with him, making sure death wouldn’t sneak up on him while he wasn’t looking.

Ryan’s presence behind him was making his alf-detecting senses tingle. He looked over his shoulder to see the creepy guy sniffing a plate of burnt stuff that Gavin was waving under his nose.

"Those are… cookies?" said Michael dubiously.

"Of course they’re cookies," said Gavin. "Okay so they’re a bit burnt—"

"A bit? They look like you used the fires of Hell to bake them."

"Michael! They’re not bad," said Gavin forcefully.

Ryan shrugged and took one. He bit into it, munched a few second with a thoughtful air on his face, and smiled.

"They’re good."

"See! Come on, take one Michael!"

"No, thanks. Where the fuck is Geoff?"

"Under the shower."

"Ugh…" Michael scrunched up his nose.

"What’s that?" asked Ryan.

"A weird alf puked some foul-smelling goo on Geoff," smirked Gavin. "It’s been three days but he still smells bloody awful. It doesn’t want to wash off."

"Oh… is that what Ray was talking about?"

"Yup," said Michael. "I think Geoff’s starting to get a little bit testy about it."

The door to the laboratory opened with a whine and they all turned as one towards it. Jack walked out, followed by Ray who still had tear-tracks on his reddened cheeks… and was now sporting a pair of glasses.

"…glasses work on alfs?" asked Michael as Ray glared at the rest of them.

"I tweaked them," said Jack. "The alf scratched his eyeballs. Elixirs only work on humans, I can’t heal him… I can only correct his loss of vision with glasses soaked in panacea and hope it helps the healing process."

"Hey X-Ray!" called Gavin, waving his hands. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Shut the fuck up, Gavin," groaned Ray moodily as he turned on the Xbox and grabbed a controller to toggle through his games.

Jack took the plate of burnt cookies off the couch and went into the kitchen as Gavin sat by Ray’s side. Michael eyed Ryan, who was still munching on the cookie.

"You can’t taste food, can you?" he whispered to the alf.

"Nope."

"Thought so."

"Any cat?" asked Ray suddenly.

"None," answered Michael.

"Good."

Even Ray was creeped out by the cat. Hell, even Ryan was, and Ryan was essentially a walking corpse. Shit’s gotta be very fucked up to creep a corpse out.

Although, Michael thought (and Gavin agreed), it was starting to get amusing. The general chaos every time Michael announced the presence of the cat had started to look like a Tex Avery cartoon, with everyone running around like headless chickens since no-fucking-body knew what to do with the thing.

Jack had been trying for weeks to make a potion that would make the cat visible to everyone, but much like the knives, everything he threw in the beast’s direction was diverted. The whole house had been showered in alchemy by now, but not the cat.

Michael had tried talking to it a few times, after all they’d already had a conversation once, but it had stayed resolutely silent so far. Lindsay herself had no idea what to do with that thing ; she’d given Michael several charms, including a cat’s dried paw in a small pouch to wear around his neck, but all that had done had been to make the demon-cat look at him with eyes that said “seriously, dude?” Michael still wore it sometimes, because it filled him with a sort of perverted glee to show dead parts of its own brethren to an animal who seemed to take pleasure in tormenting him.

Funnily enough, Michael did not feel any dangerous vibes coming off the cat. Geoff had theorized it was because it was only a messenger of death, not the thing doing the killings. But who the fuck knew…

He rubbed his face tiredly.

"Come on, Ryan, let’s play something while we wait for Geoff. What did you play last time…"

"Peggle."

"Oh right… Let’s play GTA."

"Is it the same principle?"

"… Sure, yeah."

They sat down on the couch, wrestled the Xbox controller out of Ray’s hands (‘You can’t even see the screen!’ argued Gavin, and Ray flipped him off) and made Ryan the Friendly Ghost learn how to shoot hookers and steal cocaine. This was how Geoff found them when he finally stepped out of the shower, followed by a smell that made everyone grimace. Slightly nicer than rotten eggs, but only slightly ; you could tolerate it but you couldn't forget it was there.

"What are you doing?" Geoff asked, nonplussed, glancing at the screen which was pretty much filled with dead bodies.

"I’m killing them, Geoff!" said Ryan excitedly. "All of them!!"

Michael, Ray and Gavin started laughing so hard Michael was pretty sure he was going to spit out a lung. Their mirth was short-lived however, as Jack had finally noticed what they were doing and hurried to turn off the TV.

"Aww!" moaned Gavin.

"Could you please not awaken Ryan’s killing instincts?"

"I don’t have killing instincts," said Ryan, confused.

"You just killed everyone in a 10 miles radius!"

"But… it’s not real… right?" said Ryan slowly, cautiously, as if he was scared it would turn out to be real life and he’d actually killed everyone in a ten miles radius.

"No, it’s not, but that’s not the point."

"It is the fucking point!" groaned Michael. "We were having fun, Jack!"

"What happened to Ray?" asked Geoff, and Michael calmed down immediately. Time to disappoint Geoff. Again. 

He explained what had happened in a voice smothered by shame. 

"It attacked Ray?" repeated Geoff, lifting up the imp’s face to look at his eyes. "And disappeared? Where the hell would it disappear to?"

"Beats me," mumbled Michael. "Think it followed the golden threads?"

"Nobody follows the golden threads," said Jack categorically.

Geoff hmmm’ed.

"It was supposed to only go after children, why would it suddenly change its mind and straight-up turn on Ray before you even attacked it?… Something weird’s been happening with kids around here. It started with those ghosts on the bridge but now it’s spreading…"

"You think it’s the same alf?" asked Jack.

"No idea," breathed Geoff, stroking his moustache like a Bond villain.

"You’re staying for dinner Ryan?" asked Jack. "You’ll get used to Geoff’s smell, don’t worry."

Ryan shrugged. “Doesn’t really bother me. I’ve met entities that smelt worse than this.”

"Yeah well I’m not a fucking entity and I’m tired of it," groaned Geoff. "I reek like a fucking two week-old corpse!"

"That’s not how that smells," said Ryan in the voice of someone who knew exactly what a two-week-old corpse smells like. Geoff looked at him flatly.

"You fucking scare me sometimes, dude. Seriously."

Ryan shrugged, not bothered.

"If only Jack was useful," growled Geoff, "he’d found a fucking remedy by now."

"I’m doing what I can, Geoff. I’m an alchemist, not a miracle worker."

"I’ve noticed," grumbled Geoff moodily. Michael sort of felt bad for him.

They ate frugally. No alf, no money, no food… At least Jack’s alchemy skills allowed him to cook pasta to perfection.

The humans were all too tired to stay awake much longer. Ryan bid them goodbye and Ray looked longingly at the tv. Geoff had elected to sleep on the couch until his smell had disappeared, so sleepless imps could not play games until late in the night anymore.

They all shuffled to their respective beds. Michael was sleeping before his head hit the pillow, and his dreams were filled with shadows looking at him and a cat meowing to the tune of a nursery rhyme.

He woke up early the next morning. Stepping out of Jack’s laboratory, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he was wondering if they even had anything left to eat for breakfast, but stopped as he found Geoff up and staring at the apartment’s front door. At his feet was the cat, sitting quietly by his side, the creepy blue eyes staring at him without blinking.

Michael rounded the furniture slowly, as if he was creeping up on a fly he was trying to kill.

"Geoff?" he tried, but the man’s eyes were blank.

Sleep-walking, then. Michael glanced at the door, with its fuckton of anti-alf items nailed and welded and glued into the wood, and back at the cat.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" groaned Michael, keeping his voice to a whisper. "Get out."

The cat didn’t move. Its fucked-up tail was swinging happily in the air as it shifted its blue gaze from Geoff to Michael for only a second, before going back to Geoff.

"Fucking… you’re following him too, now? I thought it was me you wanted to kill. Leave him alone."

The cat didn’t move.

"Hey, shit-head! I’m talking to you! Get back on my case and leave Geoff the fuck alone!"

The cat didn’t move. Michael grabbed a book on the coffee table and threw it at the beast. Unfortunately, it was deviated mid-flight and hit Geoff in the calf. 

Geoff woke up with a start and almost fell over, his balance lost for a second as he made the mental jump from sleeping to awake, tired blue eyes looking frantically around.

"What the… Michael? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, but that thing is," said Michael, pointing at the cat.

Sleepiness forgotten, Geoff quickly jumped away from the beast. His eyes were looking just a bit to the left of the cat he couldn’t see.

"What’s it doing here?"

"No idea," shrugged Michael. "It was looking at you for a second. Do you feel like your death is imminent?"

"Shut up. Wait… was I sleep-walking?" wondered Geoff confusedly, looking around him. "Oh, shit… did I try to open the door?"

"No, you were just staring at it."

"Okay…" said Geoff. "Okay, good. What’s the cat doing now?"

"Huh… looking at me. He gave up on you, apparently. Maybe I’m way more mortal than you are."

"Oh no you aren’t," said Geoff under his breath.

After a slight pause he turned around and walked to the kitchen. Michael held the cat’s stare for a moment, but the deep blue eyes were making him shudder. He joined Geoff, trying to ignore the cat following him on silent paws.

"Cat still there?" asked Geoff as he fought with an antic coffee machine.

"Still there. By the way, you smell better this morning."

That managed to make Geoff look marginally happier.

Michael wasn’t alone with Geoff very often. Most of the time if they were face-to-face it was to train ; they fought together with their swords about once a week nowadays. Michael might not be very skillful with his senses, nor have a particular talent like flying or mental tricks or whatever it was Jack did, but he was damn good with the sword. He was almost better than Geoff already, though he would never say it out loud.

Just the two of them for breakfast, that might have been a first. Michael eyed the plate of leftover burnt cookies for a second before grabbing a pack of industrial but unburnt cookies instead, and sat at the table, waiting for the coffee to arrive.

Geoff finally sat down and handed Michael a mug filled to the brink.

"Thanks."

"Hmmm," answered Geoff distractedly. He seemed lost in thoughts, but after a few seconds he snapped out of it. "How are you?" he asked.

"Huh… fine," said Michael. Was Geoff making small-talk? Now that was a novelty.

New silence. Michael sipped on his coffee, ignoring how it burned his lips.

"How old are you?" asked Geoff.

"Twenty one."

Geoff’s fingers started drumming against his ceramic mug. Michael was so glad the smell was better this morning -still a far cry from rose and lavender, but better- because Geoff was leaning forward, his tired blue eyes looking at Michael as if he was trying very hard to remember something about him.

"How did you say your parents died?"

Michael almost spit coffee out.

"What?"

"Just answer me."

"Why?!"

"Michael," Geoff sighed, as if Michael was being a brat by refusing to talk about his dead parents.

Not that he minded talking about them, it wasn’t like they’d been a close and loving family. He’d been pretty indifferent when they had kicked it, to be perfectly honest. Negligent parents who thought he was a basket-case for the longest time hadn’t really given him the opportunity to love them ; they’d only given him loneliness. And being lonely when there was someone around was worse than being lonely on your own.

"They died last July, car accident."

"On your twenty-first birthday?"

"See? You do remember."

"In the forest?"

"Yes, they were going through a forest and skidded off the road and hit a tree… Why?"

But Geoff didn’t answer, not immediately. First he simply kept tapping his mug, making a little rhythmic melody.

"So they died the day you became an adult," he said slowly.

"… I was an adult at eighteen," pointed out Michael.

"To the eye of the law, maybe. A lot of cultures consider twenty-one to really be the turning point."

"Okay. Why do you care?" asked Michael. "Why are you asking me about all of this?"

"I just think it’s odd," answered Geoff evasively.

"People die in car crashes every day. It’s normal."

"You are not normal."

Michael put his mug down. The warmth was seeping through his cold fingers.

"So you’re saying their death was alf-related?"

"I’m saying," said Geoff, elongating his words as if he didn’t want to get them out, "that I don’t think you’re very safe around me."

Okay, this didn’t make any sense now.

"What the fuck, Geoff?"

But noises were coming from the bedroom, and Geoff didn’t have the time to say any more before the door opened and Gavin, Ray and Jack walked in. Geoff immediately sat straighter on his chair and put his bowl to his lips, as if nothing had just happened.

"Oh, hi," greeted Gavin. "You’re breakfasting together now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Cat’s here," announced Michael, and everyone tensed slightly. "It’s not doing anything though. As always. Want a real cookie?"

He took care to avoid looking at Geoff or even talking to him for the rest of the morning.

Geoff did the same, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thing was, Michael did feel safer around Geoff. He couldn’t help it. 

Geoff’s presence screamed ‘shelter’ and ‘safety’ to him, something he had never really experienced until now. And it was much the same with the others.

He not only shared experiences with them, he also knew they would have his back, literally and metaphorically, because that was just the kind of people they were. Even Ryan, newest addition to their little group, had proved to be extremely reliable, always coming to help whenever they tread the Otherworld.

And it wasn’t just that -it was also how Gavin was always ready to share a laugh, how Ray’s loyalty never wavered, how Jack was always there to calm a brewing fight, how Ryan gave his trust and did not take it back, and how Geoff seemed to be more solid than hardened steel.

They were all pricks, but damn if they weren’t good people too… and Geoff was badass. Michael had seen him kill quite a few alfs by now and he was still impressed. If Geoff wanted to kill an alf, that motherfucker was dead as dicks.

And then, Geoff went and trapped spiders under a glass and released them outside instead of using Michael’s preferred method, which involved a hefty shoe and good aim… Geoff also cried watching sad documentaries without being ashamed of it, but the spider-thing most intrigued Michael. You’d think after killing non-humans for a living you’d be okay with terminating an insect’s life. Seriously, Michael had a really hard time believing him when he said he was selfish.

Still, he was indeed an annoying prick. And after that awkward morning talk, seeing as his mood stayed as bad as his smell, Michael chose not to press the issue and kept avoiding him.

Which of course did not go unnoticed for long. It was two days later, as Gavin and him were in Lindsay’s shop wanting to introduce Ryan, that Michael had to explain himself.

"He asked you why your parents died?" repeated Gavin. He seemed floored.

"Yeah. Don’t fucking look at me like that, I don’t care. I just find him weird… I mean, weirder."

"I don’t know who my parents are," said Ryan absent-mindedly.

He was looking around at the shop, only half-listening to the conversation. Ever since Ryan had been told why he was how he was and what it meant, he seemed to be constantly aware of it, have questions about his past running non-stop in the back of his head even when he was thinking about something else entirely. A guy with no identity would have no choice but make that his identity.

"Think of Geoff as your father!" declared Gavin. "And Jack’s your mother."

"That… is disturbing," said Ryan.

"Do you think you had kids?"

Ryan’s face fell, his eyes widening. That thought had apparently not crossed his mind until now.

Michael groaned loudly.

"Fucking Gavin and his habit to put both fucking feet so far in his mouth he could shit them out."

"What?" asked Gavin. "It was just a question…"

"Shut the fuck up!"

The door behind the counter opened, saving Gavin from spouting out more excuses for himself. Lindsay walked out, now with three white cats following her. Michael wondered if it was the result of another fairy fucking another cat.

"Hallo!" she said happily. Her face lost a bit of happiness when she saw Ryan, though. "… Newcomer?" she asked.

"It’s Ryan," said Michael.

"Oh… yes, Geoff and Jack told me about you." Her warm smile widened. "Hello!"

Ryan waved. He still looked a bit shaken but Lindsay’s appearance had pulled him back to the present.

"So you’re the one who was possessed?" she asked.

"Apparently…"

Lindsay walked around the counter to look at him better.

"You’re very well preserved for a former-possessee. You should be a zombie by now."

"…Thanks?"

"It wasn’t a compliment. That’s not good news."

"Erm… why?"

"Because it can mean that whoever possessed you can’t control their powers, and unstable alfs are not good. Either that or they did it on purpose, and that’s even worse."

"Lindsay," interrupted Michael, "can you just look at him and maybe see if you find something interesting to tell us? Instead of making us shit our pants?"

"I am looking at him," pointed out Lindsay, "and I can say he was possessed by a witch a long time ago." She nearly spat the "w" word.

"A witch, huh? How long ago?"

"No idea. Time in the Otherworld is complicated, I couldn’t say. But witches and sorcerers cannot mess with someone on such a huge scale unless they have struck a deal. So either Ryan did it himself or someone else made a deal with a witch and offered Ryan as prize."

"You can do that?" Ryan sounded disgusted.

"Of course," said Gavin.

"Witches aren’t righteous, Ryan," Lindsay went on. "They won’t say no if you offer them more than one life or soul, more often than not they’ll even trick you into doing so… but in the end it doesn’t matter : if you make a deal with a witch, your soul is theirs, even if you give them someone else’s to occupy themselves with for a few years. Your witch will come to find you eventually."

"So… you’d have to be pretty stupid to deal with a witch," concluded Michael.

"Everything involving humans playing with witchcraft is stupid," huffed Lindsay. "Sorry, Ryan."

"No, no… I mean… it’s done now," stammered Ryan. "It’s not like we can reverse it… can we?"

"No," said Lindsay categorically.

"Never mind then. I don’t remember my other life, I don’t even know what I’m missing on."

He’d said that as if it would make everyone feel better, but it just made Michael feel worse. Thankfully, Lindsay changed the topic.

"How’s Geoff?"

Gavin’s hands twitched, as if he wanted to make some sort of gesture but stopped himself. He sighed. “Great. Still stinks.”

"Poor dear," commiserated Lindsay. "Does he still wake up at night?"

Gavin glanced at Michael and Ryan before answering, “Yeah. But he doesn’t get out, we make sure of it.”

"He was looking at the door the other day," said Michael.

He hadn’t expected his words to make Gavin’s face lose half its colors.

"What?"

"Huh… He was sleep-walking and kinda staring at the door. What’s the deal with this?" asked Michael as Gavin looked decidedly distraught. "Is it dangerous for him? Is he going to come into my room and strangle me in his sleep?"

"Of course not," snorted Gavin.

Lindsay did that creepy head-tilt of hers. “He’s trying to follow the one thing he always wants to follow.”

"Is this a riddle?" asked Michael, annoyed. "I thought you were a fae, not a fucking sphinx."

"Have you ever heard, Michael," said Lindsay, "of the strings of fate?"

Michael shrugged. “S’ a legend.”

"So are ghosts and fairies. All of this is just a whimsical tale, and the strings of fate write it. If someone figures out how to pull on those strings what do you think happens?"

"… so… Geoff’s pulling… strings…" ventured Michael. "…in his… sleep?… What?"

He looked at Gavin for help but the guy just made a “don’t look at me, it’s not my fault” sort of face.

Lindsay laughed. “If you don’t understand then you don’t know enough. You’ll have to ask Geoff.”

"Of course. Because he loves telling me about himself, right," said Michael pointedly.

Lindsay ignored that. “Is there something else I can do?”

"Yeah," sighed Michael, guessing that conversation was over. "Cat’s still on my tail. And on Geoff’s too, it was looking at him this morning."

"Eh, doesn’t surprise me. These cats love death."

"… Geoff’s not dead."

"Neither are you."

Michael gave up. He was never going to get a straight answer with these people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Someone sold him off?" asked Geoff thoughtfully.

"Or he did it himself," shrugged Michael, eyeing the cat who was eyeing him back, sitting by the front door.

"But that’s something a fucking idiot would do. Ryan is not a fucking idiot."

Michael had to concede the point.

"Doesn’t matter," said Ryan moodily from where he was sitting, balanced on the arm of the couch. "If I didn’t do it, then whoever did is dead by now."

"Maybe their deal was immortality," said Ray.

"I’m not worth immortality."

"How would you know?" asked Gavin. "Maybe your life was bloody amazing. What if you were a brilliant scientist before you got sold? What if you were about to discover a cure for cancer?"

Ryan couldn’t look more defeated if he tried.

"God, Gavin," groaned Michael, "you have a gift to make people feel good, don’t you?"

After that the conversation dissolved into nothing. Ryan had locked himself up in his own gloom, Geoff had started walking in circles in a corner, Jack was talking about the difference between witchcraft and alchemy to whoever wanted to hear it (apparently it involved conversing with nature versus forcing it to bend the rules and do your dirty work). Michael didn’t exactly care ; he left for bed early, patting Ryan as he passed by him.

"You can always make a new life, you don’t need the old one."

Ryan cracked a smile.

Michael was tired enough to fall asleep, even this early in the evening. But his slumber was cut short by a hand landing on his arm and he jerked awake, flailing against his enemy.

"Jesus fucking Chr—mmmph!!!"

Another hand on his mouth cut off his scream. ‘I’m being kidnapped,’ he thought frantically, before a familiar voice snapped at him.

"Stop it, moron!"

Michael blinked through the dim light offered by a dying candle.

“‘hoeefff?” he said behind the hand on his mouth.

"Of course it’s me," grumbled Geoff, finally releasing Michael.

"What…" Michael sat up and grabbed his glasses. "You can’t just knock like everybody?!"

"I thought you were still awake."

"Well I wasn’t!"

A more civilized person knocked on the door.

"Michael?" came Ryan’s voice from the other side. "Everything all right in there?"

"Yes. I’m just jerking off."

Ryan fell dead silent and Michael started chuckling. Ryan could swear like a fucking sailor if he was in the mood, but sometimes he acted as if he’d been raised in the Victorian era.

"I’m not! Geoff’s just being a piece of shit."

"Oh… okay. Well, huh… have fun."

Michael was still laughing. Even Geoff was smiling at Ryan’s discomfort, but his voice was serious when he shouted,

"Actually, Ryan, I need to talk to you too. Can you come over here?"

The door handle turned and the alf hesitantly walked in.

"What?"

Geoff ‘s tired blue eyes looked at Michael.

"Have you thought about what I told you the other day?"

"About how you’re dangerous for me or something?" said Michael."Yeah, I did."

"And you’re still there."

Michael sat straighter. “Are you kicking me out?”

"No," said Geoff. "I can’t kick you out."

"I’m pretty sure you can. What happened to "Do everything I say without asking questions"?"

Geoff smirked. “What happened to it? You passed the tests. You don’t need my advice anymore, you’re not as useless as I first thought.”

"Hum… than… ks?"

Geoff stood and leaned against the desk. He kicked that fucking basket under the table, the one that was hissing all the time. He took a big breath filled with importance, as if he was about to start reciting Hamlet’s monologue.

"Michael… I sometimes dream about your parents’ car crash. I don’t know how it’s related to me," he went on, raising his voice over Michael’s gurgling noises of surprise, "all I know is that associating with me means… bad things."

"Buh…" was all Michael was able to said. Ryan came to the rescue.

"What do you mean?"

Now Geoff talked extremely fast, wanting to get it all out, like ripping off a band-aid : “Michael is trained now, and he’s good at it. He can go on with his life. And you, Ryan…”

"Are you going to tell me I’ll end up badly?" scoffed Ryan. "Have you looked at me?"

"Yes, and honestly it could be worse."

"Wait," said Michael, "does that have anything to do with this bullshit Lindsay told us? About strings of fate?"

"I guess," said Geoff with a hesitant nod. "The end of my string is floating on lava. It’s not a good idea to follow it."

"Then why are you keeping the others?" retorted Michael bitterly. "I thought you guys loved each other. Let them go if they’re in danger! Why us and not them?"

Geoff had a weird smile. “They’re here because everything that could have ended badly for them has already done so. They’re at the end of the fucking line but you two still have a chance.” He looked Michael right in the eyes. “I wouldn’t tell you this if I could avoid it. But now I’ve had those dreams, it looks like it’s not a good idea for you to stay.”

"I don’t care," said Michael, crossing his arms defiantly. "I don’t even care if you somehow killed my parents or whatever the fuck happened. How do you know moving away is going to keep me safe, anyway!"

"I don’t want to leave either," said Ryan.

Geoff grimaced. “Listen—”

"No, really," interrupted Ryan, "I don’t want to. I… like it here. It’s like a home."

"Would you kick a man out of his home, Geoff?" said Michael, pointing at Ryan like a lawyer presenting ‘exibit A’. "Really? You would be that cruel?"

"Shut the fuck up," growled Geoff. "I’m talking about your lives—"

"I don’t have a life," pointed out Ryan.

"This is the only life I like," said Michael. "I don’t want to go back to being alone."

A pregnant silence followed. Michael brought his legs to his torso, trying to ignore the heat burning his cheeks.

Geoff cleared his throat. “As long as you’re aware I’m a danger… I can’t kick you out.”

"Won’t you tell us why you’re so convinced we’re going to die around you?" asked Ryan.

"I didn’t say you would die. Dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen."

"Looks bad enough," mumbled Michael.

Geoff scrunched up his face, gathering his thoughts.

"I was a stupid kid," he said finally. "I was a really, really… stupid kid."

"I think everyone was stupid when they were a kid," shrugged Michael.

"No, I was worse than what you’re thinking. I had a friend…" He stopped and went down another road. "I made a deal. But the witch is dead," he added quickly as he saw both Michael’s and Ryan’s faces show complete and utter bewilderment. "We killed her years ago, and the deal was already done by then. But I’m still cursed, and I’d hate for you two to turn into collateral damage if shit ever hits the fan."

"You… made a deal?" repeated Michael dumbly. "You actually… like, went to see a witch and made a fucking deal?!"

"Did you sell me off?" asked Ryan bluntly.

"No!" yelled out Geoff. "Not you. You were snatched before I was even born!"

"What did you give her in exchange?" asked Michael, wary.

Geoff took a second to answer, “Since the witch is dead, I don’t know who my soul belongs to now, but it’s certainly not me. And…”

"Did you give her someone else’s soul too?" guessed Michael.

Geoff only nodded, and Michael saw red.

"What the fuck, Geoff! Why did you do that?!"

"Because I was a dumb fucking kid! I have no other excuses than this one. I was greedy and jealous and… and now even though she’s dead I’m still marked as someone who made a deal. My soul’s so messed up that when I’m asleep it tries to make me kill myself!"

He stopped. Thinking about this hurt him, and Michael was half tempted to be an asshole and tell him he deserved it.

"I’ll leave you alone," said Geoff finally. "Think about it."

And he left. When the door clicked behind him, Michael and Ryan looked at each other.

"Can you believe him?!"

But Ryan seemed calm. A little too calm to Michael’s taste.

"As far as I know," he sighed, "I have made a deal with a witch too. I can’t judge."

Michael’s anger deflated, slightly. ”You really don’t want to leave?”

"Nope. I’ve met some humans before but they never offered me a home. Most of them tried to kill me, actually," said Ryan with a frown. "I don’t want to leave a home."

"Yeah…" Michael leaned against the wall. "The others are still alive and well, why not us?"

"You do have a death-cat after you," pointed out Ryan.

"Huh… I do have that, don’t I."

"So I guess you would have to think about this more than I do."

Ryan returned Michael’s earlier friendly pat, and left the room, leaving Michael to think alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes Michael felt like he needed to write to one of those advice columns in magazines. To someone who would be okay with him vomiting emotions onto their lap. Someone who’d sort out his feelings for him, because Michael was feeling a hundred things at the same time, and he had no idea what to do.

He had barely slept after that discussion with Geoff and Ryan. His kneejerk reaction of hating Geoff for having made a fucking deal was irrational at best, and stupidly naive at worst. Of course people would make deals. It’s just how human nature works. They didn’t have to be the worst people on the planet just to want to be richer, or wish for a baby, or whatever the fuck it was that people asked for these days. And maybe kid-Geoff hadn’t understood what making a deal even meant.

Lying in bed late the next morning, Michael was mulling it all over. What would Geoff have wished for? He’d been greedy and jealous, was what he said last night. Well a lot of people were greedy and jealous -kids, even more so. It didn’t mean shit.

Jack’s voice filtered through the door.

"Michael? You awake in there? It’s almost twelve… you all right?"

Michael groaned and sat up.

"I’m fine. Just thinking."

"Okay… Well, I’m off to the store, so you’ll be alone. Be safe."

"Where are the others?"

"Geoff and Ray are at Lindsay’s. Gavin’s checking out a so-called haunted house, there’s no ghost but the landlord will still pay us for putting our nose in it. Ryan… well, who knows."

Michael stood and stretched. He wondered when had Ryan left. The guy insisted on going back to the Otherworld instead of staying here like Ray, and Michael wasn’t sure why, especially after last night’s talk.

He opened the door and glanced at Jack, burdened by shopping bags in his one and only hand.

"If you wait for me I’ll come with you," he said. Jack smiled at him and nodded.

They walked to the store in silence for a moment. Michael was still thinking about his advice column. He glanced at Jack, who always looked so calm and rarely bothered by anything… Eh, worth a shot.

"You know Geoff talked to me and Ryan last night, right?"

"Yes," said Jack simply. They walked through the glass doors and into the chilly store. Michael lowered his voice.

"You know what he said?"

"Yes."

"… You still trust him?"

"Yes." Jack glanced at the shopping list. "We need milk."

"But… wait, Jack!" called Michael.

"I don’t know what you want me to say," said Jack calmly. "Geoff has proved to me that he could be trusted, but maybe he hasn’t proved it to you."

"But he says it’ll end badly for me if I stay."

Jack smiled crookedly.

"I was like you when I was young, you know. My dad was an alchemist too but he died when I was fourteen and I was all alone. Then one day I hear about this British family who had just bought a house in town. The parents died not two days later, and the son disappeared… For some reason, I became obsessed with that case. I investigated. And I found the witch’s house."

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Geoff’s witch?”

"That very witch. She had Gavin in a cage, I don’t know what she did to him, he never talks about it… Geoff was also surveilling the witch, and he stopped me from charging in and putting Gavin in more danger. That’s how we met. He told me he had tried to kill her several times before and it had never worked, he couldn’t do it alone. He also told me about imps, about how having one on our side would help. See, anyone can anchor an imp to something, but if an Alchemist does it the link is a little more stable... Anyway, we summoned Ray."

Jack looked back at his shopping list, but he kept talking.

"I was ready to have to act like a real master, to give Ray orders, to have to threaten and scare him into submission, but Geoff didn’t do any of that. He treated Ray like a real person, not like a slave. Even Ray was surprised by the respect he was shown."

There were several bottles of milk in Michael’s arms and he hadn’t even noticed Jack placing them there. He was too engrossed in the story.

"We had a plan. The night we attacked, we thought it would go without a hitch. But of course there were plenty of hitches… We managed to wound her, but I lost a hand. We got Gavin out, but she got a hold of Ray and we had to leave him behind. Only for a night though, only the time for Geoff to make sure Gavin and I weren’t about to die. Because as soon as he was able to, he fucking tore through the witch’s house, and took advantage of her wounded state to finally kill her. He brought Ray back."

"Alone?"

"Alone," nodded Jack as he balanced a box of rice on top of the milk. "He saved us… and now, three years later, I think we’ve repaid him. Now we stick together because we all know he’s greater than the sum of his mistakes."

And pasta found their way into Michael’s arms too.

"But that’s what I think, not what you should think. You have to make your own opinion, Michael. We live dangerous lives, arguably made even more dangerous by Geoff’s presence. Your decision has to be your own, it wouldn’t be right of me to influence you when your life’s concerned."

"So… you think he’s worth the danger."

"I do," said Jack. "Just like I think Ryan and his fucked up magic, or Ray and his sketchy past, aren’t the only things that define them. But that’s me. I think Geoff likes you, and I think you know that. If you choose to stay, we will protect you just like we protect each other. Geoff would rather die than let anything bad happen to you… You know what? I’m gonna go get a cart."

And Jack wandered off, leaving Michael loaded like a mule to wait for him. So much for advice.

Michael felt a presence behind him, and he didn’t even have to turn around to know what it was. He sighed.

"You know you’re making this harder, right?"

But of course, the cat didn’t answer.

It took them twenty minutes to pile all the things they needed into the cart, and then ten more minutes spent putting things back when they realized they wouldn’t have enough cash for everything. Jack didn’t bring the conversation up again but Michael felt his gaze on him every few seconds. The cat was following them on silent paws.

The cashier gave them a bright smile. Michael frowned at her. She was petite, with red lips and light brown eyes, almost gold. Her long blond hair rested in perfect curls on her shoulders and her ears were slightly too pointy.

"Alf," whispered Michael into Jack’s ear.

"I know. What, you think Ray’s the only one to have gone topside?"

Michael carried most of the bags back home. Not that it was really heavy.

"You could probably live a better life than this is you insisted a little," he grumbled. "Ask for more money for your jobs."

"We don’t want to. Geoff doesn’t want to."

"Yeah but Geoff’s doing this shit out of guilt. That’s it, isn’t it? He’s trying to atone for his mistakes or whatever? That's why he was so scared when I fucked up and almost got him killed. He's scared of what will happen to his soul if he dies."

Jack looked at him with a level gaze. "Does it matter? In the end, he’s doing good."

"Oh course it fucking matters!" hissed Michael angrily. "I can’t forgive him for giving someone else’s soul to a witch!"

"Nobody’s asking you to forgive him, Michael."

They stepped into the apartment, the black cat still on Michael’s heels. Ray and Gavin were back and both came to help Michael out.

Gavin made a little happy noise as he dove into a bag. “Oh sweet, ice cream!”

Ray immediately held out his hand and Gavin put a cornetto into it.

"Want one, Micoo?" cooed Gavin, his accent dancing on Michael’s name, big green eyes sparkling with childish glee.

Michael glanced at Ray, with his scratched eyeballs and alchemy-enhanced glasses, who hopped onto the couch and turned on the TV, then at Jack who was shaking his head at a shelf that looked ready to break in half. These people were the sweetest pieces of shit on the planet. And they had all chosen to rally behind Geoff.

"Micoo?"

"Mi _chael_ ," corrected Michael, turning back to Gavin.

"That’s what I said : Mi _coo_."

"Just give me a fucking cornetto."

Gavin laughed and handed the ice cream.

Nah, thought Michael. He wouldn’t leave. So what if it ended badly for him… he had tasted loneliness all his life, with only shadows and things going bump in the night for companions, left to himself and discarded by the people who were supposed to love him. Being with those guys erased loneliness, even if it wasn’t always easy to live here, even with danger looming above him.

Who was the motherfucker who said it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Because he was right. Michael guessed everyone in this apartment shared this philosophy.

"I’m staying," he whispered to Jack as they passed each other.

"I’m very happy to hear it," whispered Jack back. "And Geoff will be too."

Later in the afternoon, Michael and Gavin were watching Ray trying to get an achievement, giving him unsolicited and purposefully unhelpful advice, when Geoff came back, his fantastic smell preceding him.

"Where were you?" asked Ray.

"Out and about," said Geoff flippantly. "Michael?"

Michael raised his eyes to him.

"Yeah?"

Geoff didn’t say anything, his eyes did all the talking. Michael smirked.

"I like you, Geoff."

It made Gavin giggle stupidly, and Geoff’s eyebrows shoot high on his forehead. But he seemed to get what Michael was saying, because he nodded curtly and a tiny smile tugged on his lips.

"Great… because you and Gavin have a mission tonight."

"Oh come on!" Michael bounced on the couch. "I thought we were going to have a touching moment!"

"What gave you that idea?" laughed Geoff. "There’s work to do! I can’t go, my smell is not good for stealthiness, and Jack’s Jack. Ray still needs to rest—"

"Shut up," grouched Ray, "I’m fine!"

"… You want to go then?"

"No, that’s not what I—"

"Too late, you’re going. The more the fucking merrier. Just…" he paused, narrowing his eyes at Michael briefly. "Just get Ryan to come with you, it’ll be safer. And call us if anything weird happens, anything at all. Now… Do you guys know how to swim?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening should have been quite warm, but a bitter wind was blowing around the lads and Ryan as they got out of the car.

They were on the fringe of a forest that had been cut down over the years to make way for modern houses. It was still respectable in size, but clearly not as wild as it had once been.

"That’s where there’s a ghost?" asked Ray, sniffing at a tree with a disgusted look on his face, as if that particular plant had said something mean about his mother. "How’s it hurting anyone? We’re in the middle of nowhere!"

Michael got his cell phone out and read the notes he’d taken as Geoff had described their mission.

"That ghost-or-whatever tempted a few people to drown into a lake."

"Ah, I see the problem now," agreed Ray with a nod.

"Hmmm… A 9 year-old girl tried to stop her friend from going in the water but she just couldn’t. It was like the lake was calling to her friend until he went in and drowned… She’s the one who called us."

"Nine years old and already calling ghost hunters?" said Gavin. "Respect."

They trudged through surprisingly muddy grounds considering it hadn’t rained in weeks. Gavin was looking around with a slight smile on his face, as if he was enjoying the evening walk.

Ray stopped once and touched an impressive yellow flower with the tip of his finger. The plant withered and died under the touch, and less than a second later a red rose sprouted from the earth, fresh and sparkling with life. Ray picked it up and hooked it behind his ear.

"Fucking woodland fairy over there," snickered Michael.

"Call me a fairy once more and I’ll cut out your tongue."

"Big words coming from a pretty fairy," said Michael, raising an eyebrow.

"You do know it was my job for centuries, right. I used to cut people up on a regular basis."

"Did you really?" asked Ryan, interested.

Ray shrugged. “I was enslaved by a crazy motherfucker. He liked that shit, what do you want me to say. I didn’t mind all that much, I don’t care about humans.”

"I’m so happy to be your boyfriend," said Gavin.

Michael pointed ahead at feeble shimmers of light reflected on a few trees. “Here, that must be our lake.”

By now the night was almost completely down, and the large body of water lost in the middle of the trees looked like a giant puddle of oil, the stars glinting on its surface. The wind was making the leaves rustle and the branches crack, ripples were running along the water.

"Why were 9 year-old girls playing here?" wondered Gavin. "Even I’m freaked out."

He walked right up to the side of the water and looked at it.

"I don’t think you should be that close to that thing," said Michael cautiously.

"Can you feel anything?" asked Ray.

Gavin shrugged. “A bit. It’s confused. Could be anything, I don’t know if it’s good or bad or whatever. Ryan?”

"I don’t know. I sense a lot of things but I doubt half of those are things you want to kill."

"Great. Everyone’s so helpful," grumbled Michael. "We’ll be here for fucking ever. I just want to go home…"

"Oh no, wait!" said Gavin suddenly.

The water started rippling a little more viciously even though the wind hadn’t changed. Michael felt it too, now. Felt a shift in the atmosphere, as if their presence had woken ‘something’ up and now it was hungry. And it probably wanted to eat some tasty human flesh.

Gavin’s eyes widened as he kept looking at the water. He lifted a foot slowly and moved it forward.

In less than a second Ryan was on him and pulling him back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gavin.”

"But it’s calling me," whined Gavin, twisting in Ryan’s grip. "I want to go!"

"Fuck," cursed Michael. "Ryan, hold him. Ray and I are going in."

Ryan nodded.

Michael closed his eyes. Whatever was in the water was calling to him too, and he could only be grateful he was extremely bad at sensing that kind of stuff. He grabbed Ray’s wrist and clicked his fingers.

Even in the night the Otherworld was simply grey. The silence was unnerving. It weighed on Michael’s conscience like a ton of lead, putting all his senses on overdrive as they strained to feel *something*, anything at all. By his side, Ray was a little jittery, eyes on the water. Michael summoned his sword.

If he tried he could see Ryan and Gavin, both transparent like ghosts though Ryan was maybe a little more solid. The Brit was still looking at the water as if it was the most beautiful diamond, and when Michael turned around he finally saw the problem.

There were things rising up from the deep of the lake. Maybe twenty of them, bobbing up in the center of the lake. At first he wasn’t sure what it was, dark and floating -did demonic otters exist… But then they started swimming and Michael took an involuntary step back.

"Well, we found them."

"Groac’h," said Ray.

"You too," said Michael dryly as he brought his sword in front of him.

"They’re Groac’h," repeated Ray. "Water ogres."

“ _Water_? Are these fucking things like pokemons now?”

The things were swimming fast, their eyes shining. They sort of had arms and legs, but these seemed screwed into the body of a pale yellow lizard. Scaly bloated skin, eyes wide and still, mouths open in a silent scream as water gushed out of it, a hundred pointy teeth in their gums. Their thick hair was floating around them in a tangled mess, looking more like algae than anything else.

They breached the water silently. Michael swallowed and walked up to the shore just as a first Groac’h tried to crawl out. He pierced it through the skull in one swift move, grimacing at the disgusting sound it made. He was so thankful there were no smells in the Otherworld because this looked fucking nasty.

Ray brought a hand up and turned it towards the alfs still staggering out of the water. An invisible force flew out of him and went through two skulls ; the Groac’hs’ bodies sunk into the lake.

The rest of the creatures all reached the shore at the same time and Michael and Ray had to step back to avoid their clawed hands trying to grab their ankles. The alfs dragged themselves on dry land and they slithered around, slippery as fucking bars of soap, and Michael himself was slipping on the wet mud. He missed several times with his sword, and had to almost dance to avoid all the hands and teeth trying to get him.

"Ryan!" shouted Michael as he finally kicked one alf in the face. "We’d need the help!"

With an expert twirl of his wrist Ray took care of another ogre. Then there were Ryan and Gavin by Michael’s side, and they both went to work immediately.

Ryan simply went at it with his bare hands, twisting necks and breaking spines, while Gavin conjured his rapier, thin and brittle-looking but sharp as hell. He quickly demonstrated this by cutting off a head.

It took ten minutes to get them all. They were easy to kill but writhed so damned much, and they hadn’t stopped calling to Michael and trying to make him walk into the water to take him down with them. As badly tuned as his sixth sense was, Michael could still hear it and it was distracting. He wondered how the hell Gavin had managed to overcome it -but then Gavin’s mind was just fucking weird.

When the last Groac’h was killed the silence returned. Michael and Gavin were panting ; Ray, who had lost his pretty rose, was making ninja-moves as if to dare anyone else to come out of the water ; and Ryan had his arms crossed and was looking at one of the dead alfs at his feet.

"Fuckers," he growled.

"Did we get them all?" asked Michael. He turned to Gavin. "Can you sense anyone else?"

"Yeah, this whole lake is weird. Didn’t Jack give you something before we left?"

Michael took his backpack off his shoulder.

"Got it," he said, pulling out a little vial filled with a viscous liquid. It looked like bleach.

He opened the lid and poured the liquid in the lake. It dissolved into the water slowly, leisurely… and nothing else happened.

"That’s it?" Michael closed an eye and looked inside the vial with the other. "Did Jack fuck something up?"

"No, that’s it," said Gavin.

"Oh. Well. That was uneventful and anti-climactic."

"Alchemy’s not supposed to be spectacular," said Ryan. He was obviously parroting what Jack had told him, he had no fucking idea what Alchemy encompassed.

"Back to the land of the living," sighed Michael. He grabbed Ray, but before he could click his fingers Ryan stopped him.

"Wait, there’s a house over there…"

He pointed at a hole between two trees. There was, indeed, a house there, and it looked pretty massive.

"So?"

"I think I know it," said Ryan.

"Seriously?" asked Ray incredulously.

Ryan was squinting hard, his head tilted, trying his hardest to jolt a memory. “I think it used to be an orphanage once…” he said extremely slowly. “I might… I might have lived here…”

They all looked at him, stunned, as his eyes suddenly lit up. He looked like he just cracked a code.

"Didn’t Geoff say there was something weird happening to children? That’s an orphanage right there!"

"It doesn’t mean anything," said Michael, trying to convince himself just as much as Ryan. He really, really hated kid ghosts.

"Maybe we could just check it out?"

"Well you can check it out all you want, I’m going home…"

"Come on Michael," said Gavin, "we’ll just take a peek. I kind of want to see what this thing looks like."

Michael’s eyes swept his surroundings. No black cat anywhere in sight… tonight was -probably- not the night he died. And he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious about Ryan’s past.

"Whatever. But no teleportation tricks - let’s just go back to the real world first, all right?"

They all shifted through reality, back to sounds and smells and the deep black of the night. They could see much better in the Otherworld but Michael felt much safer here, in a world dominated by good old humans instead of by ogres and ghosts.

Michael took flashlights out of the backpack and they walked through overgrown grass towards the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t so much a house as it was a fucking mansion.

It was in the middle of what must have been a pleasant clearing, though it had been left to itself for so many years that all sorts of trees and plants were now growing everywhere. The result was wild and ugly, even in the narrow light of Michael and Gavin’s flashlights.

Michael could feel the mystic in this place. It was like stepping in a fairy ring ; there was something around here that was exuding magic. He almost walked on a swarm of Ielles, little multicolored beings that flew away with a tiny shriek, and he was pretty sure that tree over there was not a tree but a Monant, a gnome’s home.

Ryan was frowning so hard his forehead might just split up, shaking his head slightly like he was trying to knock something loose in his brain.

"Memories are hard, huh?" asked Michael sympathetically.

"I’m pretty sure I spent… at least part of my childhood here…"

"Hey guys! Look!"

Gavin had found a sign on the one bit of wooden fence which hadn’t fallen over. Michael deciphered the red letters under a layer of lichen ; it just said ‘Marie Navart Summer Camp - Closed’, and under it was the date.

"1923? Jesus Christ Ryan, how old are you?"

"Well… older than 91 years old, apparently…"

"You don’t look it," said Gavin very seriously. "But that explains why you were scared of the TV the first time you came to visit us…"

"I was not scared. It just took me by surprise."

"You growled at it!"

"I saw TVs before, Gavin, I can see them even in the Otherworld! I just never saw one… you know, turn on."

"That doesn’t make it less ridiculous."

Ryan made an annoyed little sound and turned back towards the house. It was obviously very old, built a bit awkwardly, and it was crumbling. The inside was coated in a sort of thick darkness that seemed to ooze out through the broken windows and the holes in the roof.

"I’m gonna take a look inside."

"Ryan, come on," Michael sighed. He was starting to feel like he was the only sane one in this group. "There’s something wrong with this place, there’s magic in the air and I don’t think it’s the good kind."

"I’m not the good kind of magic either. We’ll get along great."

"But that’s not… It’s not… ah whatever." Michael gave up, and watched as the alf walked up the small flight of stairs and entered through the busted door. Gavin followed, hopping after Ryan, excited like a kid in a candyshop.

Only Ray remained behind, to no one’s surprise. Him and Michael waited outside, looking as the glow from Gavin’s flashlight bounced through the broken windows until it disappeared in the deep of the orphanage.

"Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it," said Ray.

"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine."

Ray gave him a flat look as Michael tried to conceal his smirk. In the flashlight the imp’s eyes looked red-tinted, and at a precise angle Michael could almost see the scratches on his eyeballs.

"Does it hurt still?" he asked anxiously.

"No. I’m just annoyed I’m gonna have to wear fucking glasses all the time if Jack can’t find something to help… Hey, doesn’t this boulder look weird to you?"

Michael looked where Ray was pointing. It was a very big boulder that Michael didn’t remember seeing earlier, and it was oddly shaped. It reminded him of a woman hunched over, with a shawl on her head.

"Dames des pierres," whispered Ray. "Look."

At the foot of the eight-feet high boulder, a small silhouette had appeared. A young woman with rosy cheeks and an old-fashioned dress, a shawl covering her head. She looked frightened, but she was looking very pointedly from Michael to the house and back to Michael.

"This is bad," she said in a squeaky voice and an accent Michael couldn’t place.

"What is?"

"The house. They should not have come inside. They will not come back."

Michael felt his heart drop.

"Why? What’s happening?"

"The King is looking for a prey," squeaked the woman.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

But his tone had turned too sharp and the woman took fright. In a blink she was gone, though her boulder stayed. Michael ran at it.

"No! Come back!"

He walked all around but there was no woman anymore. He tried knocking against the stone.

"Hey! What’s inside the house!"

"Michael she won’t answer you," said Ray.

"You talk to her then!"

"She won’t answer me either. Fertility goddesses aren’t fond of imps, we usually mess with kids."

"Kids, kids, always the kids!" shouted Michael. He fumbled with his phone and dialled Gavin’s number. "When will you fuckers leave the kids alone!"

In his ear the shrill tone rang, and again, and again. Then there was a click, and Gavin’s voice.

"Hullo?"

"Gav! Where the fuck are you?"

"Huh… in the house."

"Get out of there," snapped Michael. "Right now."

"What? Why? There’s literally nothing here, I don’t’ sense anything…"

"Then you’re fucking broken because there’s plenty of alfs around!" shouted Michael. "Get out of there or I’m gonna come and carry you out by the skin of your ass!"

"All right, all right! Keep your pants on, bloody hell… Ryan! Michael wants us to get out—yes, I know you haven’t finished, but apparently he’s got a bad feeling—… Hum, Michael? Ryan said something that I don’t really want to repeat, but I think he doesn’t want to get out."

"Put him on the fucking phone."

"No, no, I’ll deal with it. We’ll be—oh…"

"What?" snapped Michael.

"There’s a golden thread."

"So?"

"So it’s… shiny…"

"What the f—Gavin? Gavin!" Michael screamed down the phone. "Why are there golden threads? Are you in the Otherworld?"

"I don’t know," said Gavin’s dazed voice.

"Fucking don’t follow it, Gavin!!"

"But, Michael, it’s pretty… Hey, Ryan, who’s that?"

Michael looked at the house, straining his eyes as if he could magically see through its walls with enough willpower.

"Who’s who? Gav?"

A horrible feedback-noise rang at his ears and he let go of his phone, letting the grass cushion its fall. He stared at the broken front door, at the bottomless darkness inside.

"What’s happening?" asked Ray, feverishly picking the phone back up. "Gavin? You hear me? He’s not there," he said, looking at Michael with the same panic on his face that Michael was feeling.

"I—I think he followed a thread…"

"Why?! Why were they even in the Otherworld?"

"He said there was someone… Ray, we have to go get them."

For the first time, Ray looked genuinely frightened. Not uncomfortable or slightly creeped out, but actually, pant-wettingly scared, his face drawn, his muscles tensed and his eyes too big. But he nodded nonetheless.

"And quickly, before they get dismembered."

"Holy shit," whined Michael.

He took his phone and wrote the quickest text he could to Geoff and Jack, then grabbed Ray and clicked his fingers. In the Otherworld, at least, it was easier to see and easier to spot alfs.

He had his sword in hand in a second, and he ran into the house, followed by Ray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment they stepped through the front door, the usual grey of the Otherworld dimmed. And not just a little, not as if they were walking under a cloud ; it became so dark Michael could barely see his own feet.

"What the fuck…" he whispered, looking behind him. Ray’s eyes were glowing in the dark.

"I don’t care, just find Gavin and Ryan," he hissed, and Michael approved.

Flashlights wouldn’t work ; Michael was reduced to hoping Ray would tell him if he was walking into a spider nest. He found his way through the first door on his right.

"There’s no one," said Ray tightly, "but this must have been the dining hall…"

Michael could see the outline of two very long dinner tables and several chairs, broken and overturned, lying around. A chandelier had fallen from the ceiling and was now resting between the two tables. No golden thread in sight, no Gavin nor Ryan either.

A bad feeling crept up Michael’s spine, like fire ants crawling on his skin.

He spun around to see a shadow in the doorway, a humanoid shape, too tall and thin and too blurred. It stood there against the darkness, watching them silently.

"Who’s there?" called Ray. "If you have our friends you better give them back!"

The shadow didn’t move. Michael was hesitating. Attack? Try to question it?

"Gavin?" he tried calling as loud as he could. "Ryan? You there?"

No answer. The shadow in the doorway flickered out like a candle.

"Yeah that’s right, run away!" shouted Michael. "Gavin! Ryan!!" he screamed. "Jesus Christ, I am going to fucking kill them."

He held his sword up and walked out of the room.

The floorboards whined with every step, the walls cracked as he walked past. At the end of the hallway there was a wooden staircase rotting away. Michael hoped the guys hadn’t gone up.

He tried another door and found what must have been the living room. There was a giant fireplace and broken furniture, and several paintings and pictures had fallen off the walls. Shards of glass crunched under Michael’s feet.

The bad fucking feeling hadn’t disappeared ; it was even spreading, trickling through his veins and setting his nerves on fire. His stomach was tied in a knot as he rummaged around a pile of something-or-other with the tip of his sword.

The sound of feet pitter-pattering made him spin around. His eyes were straining in the dark, but he could see nothing but inanimate objects.

"… Ray?" he tried. "Ray? Where are you, dude?"

All that answered him was that same sound. Someone with small feet was running in the hallway. Michael froze completely in place, his hand holding the sword so tightly it hurt. He took a deep calming breath that didn’t calm him down at all.

"Ray? Come on, man. Don’t do that to me."

He took a few steps forward. Another sound made him stop ; someone was singing now, a lilting half-song in a little girl’s voice. Michael couldn’t make out the words.

He bit his lip. Had he just been thrust into a Japanese horror movie? The voice grew louder and the words became clearer.

"The King of the Aulnes is a shadow…" it sing-songed over and over again.

Michael finally reached the hallway. It was too dark to see much but it looked empty.

Something cold touched the back of his neck and he jumped, lashing out blindly with his sword as his heart leapt in his throat.

The black shadow was right behind him.

"The King of the Aulnes is a shadow," repeated the girl, and Michael wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up.

He thrust his sword at the shadow but it vanished again. Feet ran behind him and there was no one when he looked back.

"Ryan! Gavin! RAY!!" he howled. Panic was starting to make him lose all control.

"MICHAEL!!" shouted Ray, and suddenly the whole house shook as if something heavy had fallen down.

"Ray!" He turned on himself. "Ray! Where are you!"

"Michael! Michael HELP!"

Oh no. Oh, fuck no. Ray was in trouble. But his voice was coming from everywhere at the same time and Michael was hearing the song and the feet running, and the floorboards creaked even though he was not walking on it.

"Where are you!" he screamed.

"Help me!" begged Ray. He sounded downright terrified and Michael’s panic rocketed. 

"Ray! I’m coming!"

Upstairs. Ray’s voice was coming from upstairs. Michael launched himself at the staircase, forgetting all about its dangers, and swallowed the broken steps five by five. He reached another hallway, four doors on either side, all busted open.

"RAY!"

Michael ran from one door to the other. He saw the shadows of beds, those were the kids’ dormitory. The creepy girl had stopped singing and Ray wasn’t answering Michael’s frantic shouts. The staircase creaked as if someone was climbing up.

The last room was in shambles. Beds broken in two, shards everywhere, sheets crumpled all over the ground. And Michael saw the golden thread lying between two broken beds and leading towards another door at the back, shining clear as day in the middle of the surrounding darkness. He glanced behind him.

The shadow was there again and by his side, a small child, face white as a sheet, was smiling at Michael. She blinked at him and raised a hand, beckoning him to her. Michael took a step back. 

"Did you take my friends?" he asked loud and clear. "Where are they?"

The girl stopped smiling. She pointed at the golden thread, and opened her mouth.

"Lost souls don’t have a shadow," she sang.

"Shut up!" snapped Michael. God he wished Geoff and Jack were here. They’d know what the King of the Aulnes was and where the guys were. 

The shadow by the girl’s side started to glide forward, slowly, towards Michael, and two arms reached out. Michael fell over as he backed away. He felt a soft breath on his cheek and thrust his sword at it, but it hit nothing. Fingers cold as ice touched his ankle and Michael kicked blindly, frantically crawling backward as the shadow kept getting closer.

From the few beds still intact he saw smaller shadows sit up, like children waking up all at the same time. Voices rose from nowhere, hundreds of conversations happening at once and buzzing in Michael’s ears like a swarm of wasps.

As the shadows in the beds got to their feet Michael scrabbled for his sword. The voices got louder, and louder until it hurt, and the ghosts were all converging on Michael. He fucking ran along the golden thread, throwing himself against the door under which it disappeared.

He shook the handle until the door opened. He felt a pull on his mind, and he was thrown out of the Otherworld.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw : there's some potentially triggering things in there, some heavy scenes. so, reader's discretion is advised.

Michael’s mind was hurting. Not his head, not his skull, not even his brain. His fucking mind.

He groaned and his hands twitched. He felt stone under him, rough and lukewarm. A pitiful moan escaped his lips as he opened his eyes. 

His glasses were dirty, covered in dust as if he had laid undisturbed for centuries, blurring the world around him. The very, very, very weird world around him.

He pushed on his arms, heaving his torso off the floor. It was bricks, golden bricks under him, forming a nice little path. Fluffy trees with red and purple leaves and pale green bark bordered the path, and behind those, endless purple grass as far as the eye could see. If the Otherworld felt like looking through a black-and-white filter, this world, wherever the fuck it was, felt like someone had fucked with the general color scheme.

A light wind ruffled Michael’s hair, cradling him pleasantly. Everything was pleasant. The colors were nice, the temperature was nice, the air smelled of lilac. The wind was blowing a sweet melody around, very faint but so soft to his ears…

Michael frowned and shook his head. His mind was slow, still hurting, curled in a corner like a scared child, but memories were coming back to him. Ray, Ryan and Gavin. Kidnapped. He sat up and looked around a little more seriously. Was that the fucking world on the other end of the golden thread? He certainly was on a golden road.

"Fuck me," he breathed. No wonder the world here felt so nice ; it was the same kind of lulling calm and tranquility Michael always felt when looking at a golden thread. As if, here, everything was just fine.

He let out a cry of relief when he saw his sword lying next to him. His backpack was nowhere in sight, he might have lost it in the orphanage. There were healing potions in there, damn it. Michael had the sneaking suspicion he was going to need a lot of healing potions very soon.

He got up, painful cuts stinging his hands and knees, and looked around. No one, nowhere. Nothing. Just trees and grass.

"Gavin?" he tried but his voice was swallowed by the wind.

He had to find them. He had to find them quickly. If he found a single one of them dismembered he was going to lose his fucking mind.

But where the hell should he start? There was nothing, he didn’t know where he was or even how to get back home. He was more than lost ; he was so lost he was in another dimension. The creepy shadow might still be after him, something had grabbed the only guys on the whole fucking planet he would actually cry for at their funerals, he could barely think straight, and this damn fucking pleasant atmosphere was trying to suffocate him. And he was all alone.

Ah, yes… That familiar feeling, the one where he knew no one could help him and he was disconnected from every other human being. A loneliness that sunk its teeth into his guts and made him want to give up on everything, because what was the point? He couldn’t do anything. He hadn’t felt so lost in months now, not since he’d met the guys.

He looked down at his sword, its metal shining in the orange light of the setting sun. Fucking hell, he had to get a grip. All right, so he had been separated from the guys -which meant was that he was also their only hope. Now was not the time to cower in fear and roll over and wait to die. Now was the time to fucking haul ass and fight. He’d been trained. Geoff had said he was good at it. He could do this.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, getting a nosefull of that sickening lilac scent.

"All right, Micoo. Get your shit together. Follow the yellow brick shit-road…"

He chose a side and ran down the golden road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His phone was frozen. Michael had no idea how much time had passed since he woke up. This place seemed to be stuck in permanent dusk, a fiery sun hanging low in the pink and orange sky. Michael felt like he’d been running for half an hour now and silently thanked the third-floor apartment with no lift -this cardio was fucking paying out.

But his lungs were starting to burn and this road seemed endless. Had he chosen the wrong side? Should he have gone the other way?

Just as he was thinking this, the silhouette of a castle appeared in the far distance, towering above the trees. It was emerging from a fog Michael hadn’t noticed until now, but it was creeping up on him ; it enveloped the path, floating calmly, almost sparkling. As Michael ran into it thickened until the whole world was swallowed in a vortex of white smoke. A few more steps, then it thinned, and finally disappeared and gave him full visibility again. Michael stopped running.

The trees were a lot less fluffy now. They looked dead, skeletal green branches reaching for the sky with only a few brown leaves to show for themselves ; and on several of them there were people swinging at the end of a noose. People fucking hung in rows on either side of the fucking yellow brick road, that sweetly warm breeze pushing them gently from side to side. The Wizard of Oz just took a very, very bad turn.

His whole body and mind was screaming to get away from them. But Michael slowly walked to one of the corpses, his hesitant steps faltering as he came closer. This one wasn’t human ; pointy ears, pale skin and perfect blond hair even in death, she looked like the cashier Michael had met. A little further away he could see a Nymph, and a little further a Nixen. Those fucking maniacs had hung some of their own… unless this world wasn’t a world of alfs? Who the fuck lived here? Who did that sick shit?

Michael brought his sword closer and kept walking towards the castle. His eyes snapped to each and every hanging silhouette, dreading to see a familiar face looking at him with dead eyes. Would Ray die from hanging? Ryan wasn’t technically dead, it could kill him. And Gavin was only human.

Michael ran faster.

The castle was giant and the doors so high that Michael couldn’t even guess their height. The thick black handle was above his head, almost out of reach.

Michael glanced over his shoulder, at the field of bodies swinging like metronomes to a funeral march, morbid decorations surrounded by a head-turning scent of lilac. The fog of earlier seemed to be coming back, slowly eating up the yellow brick road, moving towards Michael as if it had changed its mind and wanted to pull him away from the castle.

The door opened without a hitch, without even a sound. Inside there was a long hallway made of pale green stones and torches regularly hung on the walls. Michael let the door close behind him, protecting him from the fog, and he walked on.

And on.

And on.

Was there a fucking end to this hallway? There were no turns, no doors. It went straight ahead and it did not stop. Jesus Christ, how long was that castle?

Just then, finally, a door appeared on his left. With no other options, Michael opened it slowly, carefully, and glanced inside.

There they were, Gavin , Ryan and Ray. They were sitting at a long dinner table adorned with fancy candelabras and empty golden plates, facing Michael, and all three of them had the blankest looks on their faces, mouths half-opened, bodies half-slumped against the back of their chairs. But they weren’t the only ones.

All around the table there were kids. Most of them had an injury of some kind, some looked sort of transparent. All were looking blankly ahead. And at the end of the table there was someone else, presiding to this dinner with the dead ; an old man with a long white beard and dressed in a flowing black robe, his eyes white and glowing, and a cracked crown on his head. He was ‘looking’ at all his guests one by one, slowly, as if trying to remember their features.

Michael’s hands were trembling as he opened the door a little wider. The old alf wasn’t looking at him. Maybe he could reach the guys, attract their attention somehow. He just really hoped they weren’t dead like the kids. They looked all right. Oh God please let them be all right…

Slowly, Michael walked in, hugging the wall. He rounded the table, keeping an eye on the black figure, but with eyes as white as this it was impossible to know if the alf had noticed him or not. Finally he reached Gavin. He took the guy's arm, relieved to feel him warm and alive under his fingers.

"Gav!" he whispered. "Gavin, come on. We have to leave."

Gavin wasn’t moving. He tried with Ray and Ryan but they weren’t more responsive. Of course.

"Come. On!" He grabbed Ray and pulled him off his chair.

Immediately, all the kids around the table turned their heads towards him, as one, and Michael almost dropped Ray in surprise. He stopped for a second, trying to judge whether he was going to get decapitated, but none of the kids were moving. They were simply looking at him.

"Fuck it," he muttered.

Thankfully Ray was at least awake enough to get to his feet and stumble weakly when Michael pulled him. He got the imp out of the dinner room and ran back in to grab Gavin, then Ryan, who proved to be more of a challenge. The kids were following his back-and-forth, heads turning like they were watching a tennis match.

Finally he had all three of them standing listlessly in the endless hallway, and the door to the room was closed behind them. Michael paused for a second, considering his next move.

"Guys? You hear me?" he tried.

He clicked his fingers in front of them a few times, even tried slapping Gavin, which was more enjoyable than he’d admit, but nothing he did could bring them out of their stupor. Michael had to think quick. Soft sounds were starting to echo around the castle. People were walking around, their light footsteps travelling down the corridor.

He linked Gavin and Ray’s hands, then Ray and Ryan’s, and took Ryan’s other hand in his. An experimental pull on Ryan made the other two follow like zombies.

"Good enough," whispered Michael, and he took off.

He went as fast as he could as footsteps clanked around him, coming from… nowhere. Or everywhere, Michael wasn’t sure. Sounds echoed and bounced off the walls endlessly.

Eventually he found a stone staircase, and quickly put the guys under it in an awkward crouch. It would do for a temporary shelter. Gavin emitted a little moan and blinked his eyelids, which Michael took as an encouraging sign.

"Shhh, it’s fine Gav," he whispered.

Now the footsteps were walking down the stairs. Michael pushed the guys a little more against the wall, standing in front of them as if he could deflect anything coming their way. He couldn’t see the people on the steps from where he was, but they seemed to be several fucking thousands, walking in what sounded like clogs and without saying a word.

"What’s happening?" he heard Ray mumble groggily behind him.

"You’ve been kidnapped by something fucked up," Michael whispered, glancing behind him. They all seemed to be waking up but it was a slow process. "and put under some spell. And now you shut up and we hide until there’s nobody around anymore."

"… okay," said Ray, still sounding out of it.

The footsteps went on and on and fucking on, for what felt like hours. Michael didn’t dare lean forward to glance at the stairs. He was so fucking scared he wasn’t sure his heart was still beating. The arm holding his sword had gone numb.

In the midst of all this shit the cat came into view. Walking casually on soft paws, its fluffy fur swinging with its steps, whiskers twitching, it came around the staircase as slowly and happily as a house cat who’s just come home after killing some innocent animal. Its deep blue eyes were staring at Michael as it stopped in front of him and sat down.

"Oh god…" muttered Ryan as Gavin gasped.

Michael pointed his sword at the beast. “I’m not in the fucking mood. You go away. I’m not dying anytime soon, okay?”

"Maybe I was wrong," said the cat.

Michael clenched his jaw. Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Michael?" whimpered Gavin imploringly behind him, and Michael turned towards him, finally realizing that something didn’t fit. The guys were looking directly at the cat.

"You can see it?"

"Oh yes," said Ray quietly. "And hear it."

Michael was no expert but this did not mean anything good to him.

"What were you wrong about?" he asked the creature.

"I thought you were the one. Maybe it is one of them."

And the creepy blue eyes turned to look behind Michael, at Ryan, Ray and Gavin. A hand grabbed the back of Michael’s shirt, in such an innocent response to fear that he suddenly felt a hundred times stronger than before.

"No."

That simple word fell as heavily out of Michael’s mouth as a declaration of war, unsaid threats following after it.

But the cat looked unruffled. “You cannot decide,” it said.

"I decide whatever the fuck I want!" shouted Michael.

"Michael—" started Ryan.

"You don’t take them!"

"I do not take lives," said the cat. "I simply collect them."

"You’re not collecting shit because nobody’s going to die!"

"Michael—!"

"So you go see death or whoever the fuck summoned you, and you fucking tell them to back off. If you want one of those guys you’re going to have to kill me first, and I’m not going to fall. Got it?"

The cat blinked at him. Michael could feel the guys’ anxious breaths on his neck.

"You are angry," the cat said.

"No shit!"

"You are making a lot of noise."

"What?"

"I thought you were hiding."

Michael’s mouth hung open for a second. The hand in his shirt tugged at it softly, pleading for him to calm down.

He closed his mouth and listened. He couldn’t hear footsteps anymore. In this dead silence, his angry words must have echoed throughout the whole fucking castle.

"Shit," he said simply. So much for his moment of heroism ; nice speeches really lost their shine when they were shouted in the middle of an enemy territory while you were trying to fucking hide.

He pushed the guys further under the staircase. Gavin whined in pain but Michael put a hand on his mouth. Maybe if they held really, really still… maybe nobody had heard them… maybe…

A person appeared around the corner and Michael jumped out of his skin.

The most hideous thing he’d ever seen was looking at them. Her face looked like it was rotting away, her skin dangling from blackened muscles. Her long white dress was torn and dirty, splattered with mud or blood -Michael didn’t want to know. The white of her sunken eyes was yellow and her dark pupils looked cracked as they went from Michael to Ryan, to Gavin, and to Ray.

Michael held his sword at her. What else was he supposed to do. She looked at the blade as if she found it interesting, then opened her mouth, and a sort of rattling breath came out of her throat, gurgling like she was suffocating in her own lungs. Michael realized she was talking.

"I tied it all," she said.

"What?" snapped Michael.

"You." Her eyes were staring at Gavin, who shrunk behind Ryan. "And you," she said, now looking at Ryan. "And you," she finished, looking finally at Michael. "All tied up. Finally mine."

"Touch us and you’re dead," snarled Michael.

He sprung forward and swung his sword. It only touched thin air ; the woman had disappeared in the blink of an eye. Michael hated when they did that.

He turned around to find Ryan looking extremely confused, Ray white as a sheet, and Gavin fucking trembling like a scared dog.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, keeping his voice to an anxious whisper. The castle was back to being utterly silent but who the fuck knew. The cat had disappeared with the witch, maybe it went to tell the murderous nutjobs who lived here that there was fresh meat for them to decorate their trees with.

"Witch," said Ray. "It’s the witch… the one Geoff and Jack called me in to kill."

"…Huh," said Michael. Well, now, this seemed to be a problem. "She’s not very dead."

"I thought we’d killed her," whimpered Gavin. He was absolutely terrified.

"Yeah, I gathered. Fucking Geoff and Jack told me about it. What did she mean? Why did she say you guys are hers?"

"She took us," growled out Ray. "Gavin and I, we were her playthings." He took Gavin’s hand in his in a useless attempt at reassuring the poor guy. "She tortured Gavin for days."

"She was breaking my mind," said Gavin in a pitiful whisper.

"Breaking? What does that mean? I thought witches needed a deal to do shit?"

Ray groaned. “They need deals to do big things that ask for a lot of magic, not to torture someone. Me, she tried to break my link to Jack. Only the master can free the imp, if someone else tries to, it just… it hurts. A lot.”

"She didn’t play with your soul then?"

Ray gave him a pointed look.

"Oh. You don’t have a soul, do you," said Michael slowly, accusing the blow. "And… Ryan? What about you?"

The man looked completely lost. “I don’t… know…”

"Never mind," said Michael. "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah… how do we do that?" asked Ray.

Michael scratched his scalp with his sword. “You don’t remember how you came here?”

They all shook their heads.

"I don’t remember anything after stepping inside the orphanage," said Ray hesitantly.

"Gavin, can’t you sense something? A path home? Anything at all?"

"My senses are muffled here," whimpered Gavin. "I really don’t like it. It’s… blocking my brain."

"Okay, okay." Michael took his hand gently, feeling the tremors coursing through his body. "It’s fine. You don’t need your brain, I’ll think for you. Just like I do every day, right?" he tried to joke.

He looked at the other two. Ryan still looked disconnected, but Ray nodded. Michael tugged on Gavin.

"Come on, boi. We’re getting out."

They walked out of their shelter, and Michael had to pause to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

The very long corridor he’d been running through since he had entered this place wasn’t a straight line anymore ; during the time they had spent under the staircase, it had grown bends and forks. Two different paths now offered themselves, the both of them turning in different directions after a few feet so they couldn’t see where they led at all.

"Michael?" asked Ray uncertainly. Michael’s hand flexed around Gavin’s.

"Yes. Let’s go."

Better not mention it. He took the left path, a vague fact about always turning left in labyrinth popping up in his head. At the next intersection he took left again. And again.

A haunting music started to float through the walls, muffled by the stone ; it was a waltz, a short piece that repeated itself over and over, the rhythm flying in never-ending circles that made Michael dizzy.

He still walked on. Gavin had gone a little paler if that was even possible and Ryan didn’t look much better. Ray simply looked terrified, holding on to Ryan as if he was scared someone would come and take him away.

And the music kept playing, never getting louder nor softer, round and round and round, and Michael turned blindly left after left, round and round and round, and the corridor was coiling on itself, round and round and round—

"RAY!!"

Michael startled so violently he threw Gavin on the ground as he whirled around. Jack was running after them, a backpack filled with bottles clanking on his back.

Michael’s heart gave a frantic tug as pure, unadulterated joy coursed through it. Jack was here, Jack would take care of them, Jack would make everything right again.

"Oh my god!!" Jack cried and he threw himself at Ryan and Ray, taking the both of them in one hug, crushing them against him. "Oh thank fuck. Geoff and I have been fucking worried out of minds."

"Where’s Geoff?" asked Michael feebly, helping Gavin back up. The poor guy was hot to the touch and Michael glanced at him worriedly.

"We split up."

"Split up…?" repeated Michael, confused, but Jack wasn’t listening.

Not even releasing Ryan and Ray, he dragged them with him as he moved to take Michael and Gavin too, which was quite a feat for an average-height guy with only one hand. Michael was squished to death against everyone else.

"You fucking maniacs," Jack breathed, voice shaking. "Geoff is going to tear you a new asshole, I swear…"

"Jack, the witch is here!" cried out Gavin in the man’s shoulder. "She’s doing this! She’s messing with our heads!"

Jack immediately released them all as if they had burned him. His eyes were wide and panicky as he looked at Michael.

"She’s dead!" he squeaked.

"Well… no."

"You said it was the King of the Aulnes. Your text…"

"It’s what the stone-lady said," said Michael. "The witch just made herself known, I had no idea…"

"Okay, okay," said Jack feverishly, looking everything but okay. "I’ll take you home and then I go get Geoff-"

"You can’t do it alone!" protested Michael. "I’m coming."

"No. Geoff wants you to go home—"

"I don’t care, Geoff’s not my boss. I didn’t make a deal with anyone, nobody controls my ass. I’m coming."

"Me too," said Ray.

Ryan and Gavin said nothing. Jack frowned at them.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," answered Ryan immediately, twitchy.

"I’m fine," said Gavin in a dying man’s voice.

"I just… What has all that got to do with me?" asked Ryan desolately.

"Maybe she wants to kiss your pretty face," joked Michael lamely.

Ray made a weird sound but didn’t say anything. He looked angry, which was a rare sight.

"Fuck me," whined Jack. "The witch… I have to go get Geoff right the fuck now…"

"How are we going to find him?" wondered Michael.

Jack raised his only hand. A very thin red thread was tied to the tip of his pinkie, and Michael’s eyes followed it on the ground as it turned around a corner.

"Unlimited thread," said Jack. "It shrinks and expands. Geoff’s at the other end."

"Then let’s go!"

There was no time for hesitation, and Jack knew it. He simply took Gavin’s hand and they all followed the red thread. Behind the walls the never-ending waltz was still playing, still turning.

"Don’t listen to the song," said Jack. "Don’t listen to any song. It’s not good."

Michael had guessed as much. It was hard to stop it from entering his mind though ; it was simply there, and twirling around him relentlessly. He shook his head hard enough to see white spots dancing before his eyes and tried to distract himself.

"Do you know what’s happening with the witch?" he asked.

Nobody answered. Gavin sort of missed a step and stumbled.

"Guys," said Michael, "I’m with you all the way, but I’d like to know why I’m about to rub a powerful entity the wrong way."

"I honestly don’t know," said Jack. "I thought we’d killed her, I really… have no idea."

"Why did she say she wants me?"

"She said that?" Jack looked at him, alarmed. "I don’t know, Michael. But I… I can only guess it’s because of Geoff’s deal."

"Of course it does," said Ray gloomily. "She said we were all ‘tied up’. She fucking played with our fates."

Michael bit his lip. The music was trying to drown out his thoughts but he tried to hold on to them.

"I never asked what his deal was. Do you guys know?"

"Yes," said Jack.

"What is it?"

"He says he doesn’t remember all the details, but he asked for…. for powers."

"Powers?" Michael repeated. "Geoff made a deal to have… his powers? To walk in the Otherworld? To fly?"

"Yes."

"But… so he knew about the Otherworld without having powers? How?!"

"A friend of his," said Jack, so quietly it was almost swallowed by the soft music. "The kid was scared and lonely and he opened up to Geoff one day… I think he even took Geoff to the Otherworld a few times…"

Michael kept walking but his feet were suddenly as heavy as his mind. Geoff’s explanation that night… He had started it with “I had a friend”. And he’d made it quite clear being friendly with him was not a good thing. Michael wondered… No. No, Geoff wouldn’t have done that.

"He wouldn’t have offered his own friend’s soul for his powers," said Michael aloud. "Not a friend. Not someone who trusted him. He wouldn’t."

The others kept walking. Gavin was trembling from head to toes. Michael decided he didn’t want an answer and pressed on.

"What’s the King of the Aulnes?"

"An old legend," said Jack. "He’s supposed to hypnotize children, a bit like the pied piper with his magic flute, and make them his own private army. Legend says he was killed… nobody has the decency to stay dead around here."

"Ray, Ryan and Gavin were hypnotized when I found them, but they’re not kids."

Jack made a sort of helpless gesture. “I wonder if the witch hasn’t struck a deal with the King,” he grumbled. “Create chaos around us, grab our attention. Use poor ghostly kids as bait, get Geoff to follow a thread somehow to trap him in this weird world. She might want revenge for all the times he tried to kill her…”

"Ya think?" snapped Michael. "He’s tried to kill the witch like a hundred times and you don’t expect her to be pissed off? She’s a fucking witch, she’s probably pissed off twenty four-seven! People have to be seriously wrong in the head to want to become that kind of twisted creature in the first place. That shit doesn’t look healthy."

"Yeah, she doesn’t look like she eats her five fruits and vegetables a day," mumbled Ray, which managed to make Gavin laugh.

Jack ignored the sarcasm. “Maybe the King catches us and in exchange the witch provides him with souls, or brings back his children, or I don’t fucking know what. Alfs aren’t logical.”

Ryan was looking around dazedly. “… Is it me or is the music getting louder?”

It wasn’t him. They had walked for what felt like miles without the song ever changing, but now it was getting louder and more insistent.

The hallway turned once more and then stopped. There was a single door on the right ; the music was coming from behind it, and the red thread had gone under it.

Jack clicked his fingers, and for the first time Michael saw his sword. It looked like a normal iron sword, except that it was at least twice as large. Michael wondered how Jack could even hold it up with one hand, it looked like it weighed several tons.

"If we want to kill her we have to be quick," said Jack.

"Dude, no," said Michael. "Killing her doesn’t make her dead, it just makes her angry."

"Wound her, kill her, cut off her head, I don’t care. The important thing is that we find Geoff and run away. If you still… want to do it." He had an odd look in his eyes as he looked at Ryan and Michael.

Michael gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a scumbag. He had already decided to stand by Geoff, he wasn’t going to change his mind now.

"I’m with you."

Ryan nodded.

Gavin summoned his own sword in shaking hands. Michael almost wanted to tell him to stay behind but he refrained ; he knew he would run in that room in a heartbeat, no matter how bad he felt, if his lover was on the other side and in potential mortal danger. Hell, he was about to it now and Geoff wasn’t even his lover…

Jack mentally counted to three and slowly opened the door. The music swelled, pushing around them like the wind.

The room was immense, a sort of ballroom with no ornaments of any kind save for the torches on the walls, and what looked like several hundreds of people were waltzing to the sound of the orchestra playing in the back on an elevated platform. At first Michael thought the instruments were playing by themselves, but squinting at them, he could see ghostly figures dressed in floating robes, almost too transparent in the feeble light, running bows on strings and pushing on brass keys.

The people dancing didn’t pay any attention to anything, not even noticing the door had opened. They were all tall and thin, long silver hair falling on their pale shoulders, grey skin and silver eyes. They moved graciously but there was something about their dance that made Michael want to turn around and run away.

Jack gestured to the others to follow him. They slipped inside slowly, quietly, trying their hardest to stay undetected, side-stepping dancing couples. Michael brought his sword against his chest to avoid accidentally cutting anyone and triggering a war, but after a while he started to wonder if anyone would have noticed even if he chopped off one of their legs.

The waltzing alfs didn’t care at all about the five intruders sneaking through their midst ; Michael bumped into one of them and held his breath in fear, but nothing happened. He bumped into another and almost stepped on another’s foot. Still no reaction. These people were far taller than he was, their hair flipped in his face. Jack kept appearing and disappearing in the crowd and Michael did his best to follow but it was only a matter of time before he lost him completely.

Michael turned around. No Ryan in sight either, no Ray, no Gavin. Alone. Again. Well, he was used to it now.

In this maddening mess of dancing fairies he suddenly caught a glimpse of black metal. Michael hurried, playing with his elbows, making himself a path through everyone, until Geoff appeared. He was standing still, looking up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, his sword held in lax hands. His throat was working, his Adam’s apple was bobbing but no sound came out of it.

Michael practically jumped on him and noted that his bad smell had disappeared. Unpleasant smells didn’t seem to exist around here.

"Geoff!" he hissed. "Geoff we’re here!"

No reaction. It would have been too easy. Michael gave up on subtlety ; he grabbed Geoff and pulled him harshly. Thankfully it seemed to pull him out of his trance and he blinked haphazardly at Michael as he stumbled in his wake.

"Michael?" he tried, as if he didn’t really believe his eyes.

"Yes! Now let’s get the fuck out of he—"

Tattooed arms wrapped around him before he could finish his words. He was suddenly surrounded by Geoff, who was trying his hardest to break his ribs.

"Fucking hell," breathed Geoff, "I am going to kill you."

"You’re managing," squeaked Michael. "You’re crushing me! Geoff, we don’t have time. Your witch is alive and she’s here.”

"Yeah, I saw her," whispered Geoff.

His arms tightened a little more around Michael, in relief or in fear, before he let go.

At that very moment, as if breaking the hug had broken everything else, the music stopped. The violins screeched to a halt, making a tortured sound as the flutes shrilled on a last false note. In the sudden silence Michael heard Gavin cry out in the distance.

Very slowly, feeling like he had just woken Cthulhu up from its centuries-old slumber, Michael looked around. All the tall alfs had stopped dancing ; all the heads had suddenly turned towards him and Geoff, silver eyes looking at them as if they had noticed a cockroach invasion.

Michael took an involuntary step towards Geoff. Or maybe it was perfectly voluntary. Despite everything, Geoff still felt like safety.

"Shhh," instructed Geoff, as if Michael was about to start fucking screaming and dancing a jig.

But they didn’t even have to make a single move for hell to break loose. Michael thought his skull was exploding when all the alfs opened their mouths wide and screamed. High-pitched and piercing, the sound drilled into Michael’s bones ; and suddenly the alfs became thinner, lighter, less solid. Several of them started flying at high speed above Michael and Geoff, shrieking like demons.

Hands armed with claws grabbed at Michael’s arms, face, clung to his shirt. Michael frantically brought his sword down on them but for each hand he got off him two new ones came. He felt the whoosh of the flying alfs above his head, the screams were rattling his bones.

The claws scratched his skin and he fell down, and the mass of alfs closing around him like a living cage, silver eyes shining down at him above mouths that screamed and screamed and teeth that sunk into the flesh of his arms raised in defense.

Ryan’s voice rose in the middle of everything, screaming his name.

"MICHAEL!"

"RYAN!"

Michael managed to put his sword through an alf and make himself a breach. He ran through it on all fours, escaping the hands trying to catch him, but the alfs were all bumping into each other.

"RYAN!"

Ryan was there, making himself a way through the sea of enraged alfs. His face was covered in scratches and his shirt soaked with blood. He finally reached Michael and their hands met even as claws kept slashing their arms.

"Hang on," instructed Ryan, and then he started running.

Like a fucking bull he hauled ass, pushing aside every alf on his path. Something warm and gooey was trickling down his arm and wetting Michael’s hand, making their hold slippery.

Michael felt like he was going through a blender, with alfs ripping his clothes to shred under their claws, and Ryan kept pulling him even if he got caught in something. His skin was getting sliced up on every side.

Finally they saw the door. Ryan jumped through it like a leopard and once outside, closed it and leaned against it with all his weight.

The horrible screeches stopped at once. The lilting music returned. As if nothing had ever happened. Ryan let himself slip down until he was sitting on the floor.

The rest of the guys were here, sitting in various states of unrest ; Gavin still looked like he was going to pass out any moment now but otherwise unharmed, Geoff’s neck had angry red marks that made Michael shudder, Jack’s stump of a wrist was in shreds, and Ray looked about as sliced up as Michael.

As for Ryan, Michael finally got to look plainly at him, and he nearly vomited on the spot.

"What the fuck!" he screamed.

That blood soaking his shirt wasn’t just from cuts and bruises ; his eyes were crying tears of blood, streaming down his cheeks and trickling along his throat.

Ryan slowly looked down at himself, lethargic eyes blinking heavily. If he hadn’t been sitting in the first place Michael was pretty sure he would have face-planted ; instead he just swayed until Ray put a stabilizing hand on his shoulder.

"What the fuck’s happening to him!" asked Ray with an edge of hysteria in his voice.

"I think it’s the witch," said Jack tightly. "He’s only alive because she left some magic in him. If she takes it back…"

"She’s taking it back?" Michael took Ryan’s other side. How the hell had this man managed to fight off a room filled with alfs in this state? "Can’t you block it or something?"

"I’m not a sorcerer, I don’t have any connection to this kind of magic, I can’t stop it just like that! I can maybe put him in a protective circle and see if it works but—"

"Do that!" ordered Geoff.

"I’m fine," croaked Ryan, his words slurred, as Jack fumbled with his backpack.

"Sure, buddy." Michael patted his head.

"Yeah, you’re top," whispered Gavin feebly.

As Jack crawled over to Ryan and started pouring out the content of a bottle filled with earth, Michael’s eyes caught something, or rather an absence of something. The torches on the walls were drawing everyone’s shadows on the stone floor, a black print that trembled unsteadily -everyone, except Geoff. The floor around him was clear of any black shape.

'Lost souls don't have a shadow,' sing-songed the voice of the little girl in Michael's memory.

He glanced at Ryan and Ray, at the shadows their bodies projected. Ray did not have a soul to lose in the first place. Ryan… Who knew what or where his soul was. But Geoff still had his soul, it was clear as day, it shone in the depth of his eyes. So why would this world refuse to give him a shadow…? Unless…

"The witch has your soul, doesn’t she."

Geoff’s eyes flickered to him. “She’s gonna take it when she kills me, or wants to enslave me, or whatever the fuck she wants out of me.” His voice was subdued, quiet, but he looked Michael in the eyes. “I went through her with my sword. I killed her, Michael. I killed her, and I moved away from that toxic town where she lived, and I used all the tricks in the book to avoid witchcraft, and I made a new life. I don’t understand how she can be alive, I thought it was all behind me… and now you guys are here with her. Fucking hell!”

Geoff hit the wall with his fist, as if that was going to help. All it did was give him a sore hand, at which he threw a death-glare as if it was its fault if it hurt.

Michael pursed his lips, still thinking. “Lost souls,” he whispered.

"What?"

"Look at your shadow."

Geoff startled as he noticed the blank floor around him. “What the fuck?!” he cried out.

"Your soul is not yours at all," said Michael nervously. "She hasn’t waited until you died, she’s fucking claimed it already. So why does she let you keep it inside your body instead of coming over and remove it?"

Ray butted in. “Michael is right, she’s using it in some way to stay alive. What were the terms of your contract, Geoff?”

"I…" started Geoff, but he stopped himself.

He jumped to his feet, suddenly o high alert, eyes darting around him and sword twitching.

"What?" asked Michael.

"She’s here."

They all looked at him, save for Jack too busy stopping Ryan from dissolving into a red puddle.

"How do you know?"

"I can sense her," said Geoff.

Figured, thought Michael. He would have been the only motherfucker able to sense anything in this bizarro world.

"What are we going to d—"

Before Michael could finish his sentence Geoff had taken off and was running down the hallway, disappearing around a corner, the red thread connected to his pinkie following him on the floor.

"You FUCK!!" yelled Michael.

"Don’t let him go alone!" shouted Jack. He was holding a bottle to a fading Ryan’s lips, unable to go himself. Gavin was trying to stand up and Ray was keeping him down.

Michael raised his sword.

"Fuck that guy," he gritted out as he ran after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael gad gone through ups and downs with Geoff, but he wasn’t sure when he had made the decision that this man’s life was worth running through an enchanted castle filled with killers and witches to save him from a stupid act of heroism.

Geoff had insisted several times that he was not selfless, that he did that job for a reason and not out of kindness. That reason was guilt ; and really, only selfless people would go that far to correct a selfish act they did when they were a kid.

Granted, that selfish act was one of the most horrible. But Michael was pretty sure other people had done worst things without ever feeling sorry for it. The next time Geoff tried to say he was a selfish asshole, Michael was going to have to hit him on the head with the broad face of his sword. Let him get a taste of his own fucking medicine.

The red thread at his feet stopped. Michael skidded to a halt and picked it up.

"Fucking idiot," he cursed.

He tied it on his own pinkie and looked around. Geoff had left the fucking string at the worst possible place : here, three paths were offering themselves to Michael, all three of them looking identical.

A calm voice behind him made him grit his teeth.

"They went left."

He turned around and growled at the black cat.

"What do you want, now?"

The cat’s knotted tail was lying on the floor, the hangman’s noose clearly visible.

"Death always follows people like you," it said.

"You sound like Geoff," grumbled Michael. "Why are you here? Are you going to say you want to take someone else again?"

"I do not take. I collect. I only followed you because your strings are eroded. They have been tempered with. This always leads to disasters."

"Okay, I don’t care," snapped Michael. He didn’t have time for more riddles. "Can you just tell me one thing?"

"Ask away."

"Is it all because of Geoff’s deal?"

The cat tilted its head.

"In a way. He surrendered his fate for power, his friends, his life. The witch can manipulate a lot more than you think."

"Right, sure," said Michael quickly. "And how do we stop this? How do I break the contract he made with the witch?"

"Death."

Michael closed his eyes. “Of course you were going to say that. Why do I fucking bother.”

He turned around and took off. Death could go eat a dick.

It wasn’t long before he found another staircase, and he threw himself at it, running as fast as he could. Geoff hadn’t done anything stupid. Hope was his only motivation at this point.

The steps seemed to climb forever. After a while Michael stopped and untied the red thread, leaving it clearly visible in the middle of the stairs. If the witch saw it she would guess Michael had back-up -which included a dead guy losing all his blood, another one who was trembling hard enough to split his own atoms, and another one with only one hand and healing potions. That was Michael’s back-up. Holy fuck. They were all going to die.

When it finally stopped climbing Michael’s knees were buckling under him, ready to collapse as he stumbled up the last step to emerge on the roof of a high tower. Geoff was there, silhouetted against the sky’s eternal dusk. So was the witch.

She turned around, her face wobbling disgustingly, to peer at Michael who froze. Geoff was standing against the parapet with his back pressed against the wall part of the crenelation. His eyes were wide and panicky, his sword was lying on the ground at the witch’s feet.

Slowly, because his muscles seemed to be working in slow motion, Michael brought his own sword up.

"Let him go." His voice shuddered pathetically.

The witch’s voice was as grating at ever.

"He is mine."

"No. You had your fun, you took his soul already. Let him fucking live the rest of his life," said Michael, desperately grasping at straws, "you’ll have him in the end anyway!"

The witch took a limping step towards Michael and Geoff screamed.

"Don’t touch him!!"

The witch didn’t even acknowledge him. “The deal is working. He will have powers as long as I have you.”

"Me?!" gasped Michael. "What do I have to do with this?"

"I could take you now," said the witch as if she was considering whether or not to buy a slightly too-expensive chair at Ikea.

Michael felt like the mice between a cat’s paws. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

"Michael, don’t—"

Geoff’s attempted warning fell into deaf ears and Michael charged at the witch with his sword ready to strike. He only met air, and before he could understand what had happened a bony hand grasped his shoulder and threw him to the floor. He somehow managed to stop himself from rolling down the stairs but it was a close call. He scrambled back to his feet, trembling with both fear and rage.

"Why are you targeting me!! Answer me!"

The witch barely looked ruffled. She tilted her head, in a move that reminded Michael of Lindsay.

"You don’t know what he did, do you?" she croaked, her cracked eyes suddenly alight with glee. "He surrendered what is his."

"Fuck off, I’m not anyone’s! He gave you a soul already! You got his friend, why would you want me too?"

"He gave me many souls."

"I didn’t!" shouted Geoff. "I only… I…"

"I’m here thanks to you, dear," said the witch, delighted to see her victims crumble before her.

Geoff looked at Michael as if he could help, but Michael was even more lost than him. Although, the cat… had said Geoff had given up his friends…

"Geoff, what were the terms of the contact?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the witch.

"I’m… not sure…"

"Fucking try!"

"I was scared, I was a kid, I don’t remember Michael!"

"Did you only give her one friend? Or all your fucking friends? Did you pay attention to the fucking ‘s’ at the end of the word, Geoff!"

The witch had a smile, twisted and wobbly. “He did not give me ‘friends’. He surrendered all he can lose,” she rasped. “He surrendered all he likes and all he loves.” On her last word her crazy eyes looked right at Michael.

Love?

Michael glanced at Geoff, ashen-faced and still as a statue.

The sound of running footsteps was echoing down the stairs. Michael was still staring blankly when the rest of the guys appeared, with Jack holding Ryan who was still crying blood but looked slightly better, and Ray holding Gavin who looked like he was going to turn to dust.

The witch’s eyes went wide. “All he can lose,” she coughed out, overjoyed.

Jack was quick to analyzed the situation.

"Let them go," he pleaded to the witch. "Please. I’ll do everything you want."

Her cracked pupils switched to him.

"Deal?" she asked.

"No!" roared Michael. "Stop doing stupid things! Shut the fuck up!"

And he ran at the witch, again, like a fucking idiot. He swung his sword but like before she disappeared, only to reappear by Gavin and Ray who stumbled back in shock.

The witch grabbed Ray by the arm and pulled him so violently Michael heard the imp’s arm crack and Ray howled in pain. Gavin fell down but managed to bring Ray with him, wrenching him out of the witch’s hold.

A blast of wind pushed her back. Ryan had managed to get a shaky hold on himself and was using whatever magic was left in him to force her away from the other two.

Seeing an opportunity, Jack ran at Ray and Gavin and quickly poured a protective circle of glowing dirt around them. He shouted something at Michael, probably “Get in there!”, but his words were lost as a horrible shriek echoed around the castle and the ground started rumbling.

Spectral figures rose all around them ; the hundreds of alfs who had been dancing in the ballroom had finished their waltz and came to find them. They flew up in such large number that they blocked out the sky above Michael’s head, their whining screeches filling the air until Michael felt like he was breathing them in, hearing them echo inside his whole body.

Geoff was suddenly there, his sword back in his hands. He pulled and pushed Michael and threw him into the protective circle on top of Jack. One of the alfs dove for them but hit the side of the circle and flew away with a moan.

Michael scrambled to his feet.

"Geoff! How do we break your contract?"

"We can’t," said Geoff, so softly Michael almost didn’t hear over the chaos screaming above their heads. "It doesn’t work like that, she’ll never break it."

The witch was lost in all the alfs flying around but Michael heard a cackling laugh that could only be hers. They were stuck in here, they couldn’t leave the protective circle ; it was as good as a cage. She had them cornered, squeezed against each other in a nice little bundle. If she had a way to break the circle they were all dead.

"Think!" said Michael desperately, twisting his hands into Geoff’s shirt. "There must something you can do!"

There was a sneer on Geoff’s face, a sinister sort of smile as he looked at Michael. “I thought if I did enough good deeds it would buy my soul back. It’s stupid. You obviously can’t kill her until I’m gone, we’re connected. She won’t stop. There’s only one real way to end a contract.” His eyes turned to Jack ; the blue of his irises was hard as steel. “Do not let her have my soul.”

"What—"

But Geoff was running away, his shirt slipping out of Michael’s grip.

A wave of panic rushed through Michael, so powerful it blinded him for a second, shut him down completely. He barely heard Jack’s broken scream, and then everything turned silent. Michael was deaf to the world as he watched Geoff jump over the wall.

They must have been several hundreds of feet up. Falling from such height would pulverize anyone. But Geoff could fly. He was just pretending to fall. To mess with the witch, to scare her. He wouldn’t let himself die. There were other ways to stop a contract, the cat had lied. Geoff didn’t need to die.

A terrible sound tore Michael’s mind away from this circle of thoughts. Jack had pierced through the witch with his sword, taking the opportunity of her distraction. She was writhing like an eel, falling to her knees. She seemed to slid on her side in slow motion, arms twitching for a second, before she stopped moving at all.

Jack pulled his sword free ; he was shaking so much it took him two tries.  
Gavin was already running to the parapet, Ray in toes and Ryan stumbling after them. Michael didn’t move. In a second they would all start laughing, and Geoff was going to appear above the wall, flying, and then he’d shout at Michael, tell him not to be fucking stupid.

But Michael watched Ryan’s knees give out from under him. He watched Ray’s whole body tense and Gavin’s slump against the parapet. He walked to them like he was floating in water. Claws were scratching his skin but he barely felt it. Geoff wasn’t dead. The tears in his eyes meant nothing, it was just stress. He leaned against the wall and his teary eyes looked down.

Far below, Geoff was splayed on the ground. Dark blood was gathering around him in a puddle. And the black cat was there.

Michael watched it numbly as it sauntered towards Geoff and put a paw on his chest. For the slightest second Geoff’s body glowed with a white light, and the cat’s blue eyes burned with a sapphire light. It was over in a flash. The cat raised its head up, its eyes looked directly at Michael before it turned around. It walked behind a tree and disappeared.

Nothing was happening anymore. Everything had stopped. Was someone pulling him away from the wall, was someone shouting? It couldn’t matter. Geoff was dead. The world was crumbling and nothing else mattered anymore.

Michael was jostled and suddenly found himself with an armful of snivelling, shaking British guy, and as if the play button on his life had been pushed, everything started happening again. Sounds came back, and wind and terror both wrapped around him.

Jack was still shouting. The alfs above them were trying their hardest to break through the protective circle, into which Michael had somehow been dragged back without noticing. It took him another second to notice Jack was holding a glass jar with a blood-red rose inside.

"I’m so sorry, Ray," he was saying over and over again, but Ray was shaking his head.

Jack smashed the jar on the ground and stepped on the rose, crushing it under his foot. Someone grabbed Michael’s shirt and he instinctively tightened his hold on Gavin, and everything dissolved around him like ink in water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael woke up and stayed lying down.

He wasn’t sure where he was or why, but there was this crushing weight on his chest, and this hollow feeling in his stomach, and he didn’t want to open his eyes.

He became aware of two voices talking. It took a lot out of him to listen.

"—was their exit strategy? Use me?"

"I think it was their emergency plan. I don’t think they wanted to do it, Ray."

"Yeah. Everything went to fuck. Like… just… everything."

Michael’s chest gave a painful spasm and he curled up on himself. A cold hand fell on his shoulder and rubbed gently.

"… Do you think we would have been able to bring his body back?"

A slight silence, then, ”No, I don’t.”

His eyes were already wet when Michael finally opened them, blinking at a grey world. They were in the middle of a forest, a protective circle glowing green around them. Ryan and Ray were the only ones awake, and Michael found he had his head pillowed in Ryan’s laps. Gavin was cradled by Ray, and Ryan had one arm propping Jack against his side.

"The cat took his soul," croaked Michael.

He felt Ryan shift under him.

"What did you say?"

"The cat. I saw it. It took Geoff’s soul."

Ryan’s hand on his shoulder was shaking.

Michael had never felt as weird as he did right now. He felt hollow, but at the same time a mixture of despair and disappointment was rolling inside his chest and fogging up his mind. It tasted bitter and angry, as if his childhood hero had just died slipping on wet floor or something stupid and lame like that.

Jack and Geoff should always know what to do. Michael had sent them a text before going in the orphanage hoping they would come to the rescue. But all it had done was getting two more people into danger, stuck in this horror world like sheep going to the slaughter.

Geoff had been right when he’d said Michael was going to kill him with a stupid mistake that could have been avoided. And now he was dead, doing the most selfless act he could think of, cutting off his contract with the witch, and Michael could only think how much of a fucking stupid moron the man had been.

But after being ripped away from Geoff and his witch and everything that was so fucking wrong about that castle, he couldn’t get angry. It felt like Geoff had stabbed him in the back and he couldn’t even be mad at him for it. He felt just felt hollow, and the image of Geoff’s broken shape was flashing in his mind like an alarm.

Michael heard a whimper and realized Gavin was awake too. He stayed curled up against Ray, crying. It didn’t take long for Jack to wake up either, the man’s eyelids fluttering behind his fractured glasses.  
When he talked his voice was steady, but Michael could see tremors running through him.

"Who made the circle?"

"I did," said Ray hesitantly. "I’m not sure I did it right, but…"

"No, it’s perfect," said Jack softly.

Nobody moved. Michael saw the brightly colored hair of the small Ielles again, hiding behind rocks, observing their grief. Somewhere in the distance a wolf-alf’s howl tore through the Otherworld’s silence.

"We should-we should go," said Jack after a while.

Michael didn’t want to move. He was fine here.

"Ray…" said Gavin in a broken voice.

"Dude, it’s fine, you can still come and see me," said Ray.

"What’s the problem?" Michael pushed himself to his elbows. "Was that your object? The rose?"

"Yeah." Ray’s mouth twitched in a facsimile of a smile. "Breaking it forced me back into the Otherworld, I took you guys for the ride."

"And? We just have to anchor you to something else."

"Yeah… but you won’t be able to do it for a while. Being pulled back like that made me unstable. I won’t survive another reality jump right now."

Michael stared at him.

"But… we can’t go back without you."

"Of course you can."

"No. No I can’t."

"Michael."

Jack placed a warm hand on Michael’s forearm, but Michael flinched away.

"No! Geoff already fucking left and now Ray? You can’t do that!"

"We don’t have a choice—"

"Geoff fucking had a choice!" Michael roared. He had found his anger and it was bursting out of him. "He had a fucking choice! We would have figured it out!"

The Ielles ran away at the sound of Michael’s booming voice.

"He did what seemed logical," said Jack, but his voice was choked up.

"There’s nothing logical, we’re talking about witchcraft! In what fucking world is witchcraft logical!"

"In this one," said Ray impatiently. "Think for a second about Lindsay said. Look at you, at Gavin, look at Ryan for fuck’s sake! The fucking witch said it herself, she said Geoff gave her the ‘all he can lose’!"

Ryan blinked slowly. “What?

"The concept of time doesn’t work in the Otherworld, and I’m sure it exists even less in that fucking castle-world."

"What the fuck does this have to do with anything!" yelled Michael, and Ray yelled right back.

"She wanted to take all the people Geoff would ever have a chance to love! She can manipulate the strings of fate, you moron. It’s not like Geoff is the kind of person to fall in love every day, is he? And still he had five of us?" Ray took a deep breath. "She found people he would like, she saw that your fates were compatible, she uprooted Ryan because she knew they would go along. She was a vicious little bag of shit and she fucking put us together on purpose so she could take us from Geoff!"

"Is that what it means?" asked Jack in a horrified whisper.

"Of fucking course. She gave us to him and wanted to take us away, to make us the ones he fucking lost. That’s how witches work, they will exploit all the loopholes. She would’ve continued to torture him. She tried so hard to get you too, Michael! I’m betting your parents’ car crash is her fault too. She did everything she could to make you all meet Geoff, tugging and twisting your fates around until they touched. I might have been a surprise, I don’t know, she still found a way to include me. But she didn’t have the time to get to you, Michael. You’re the only one of us the witch has never had the chance to hurt, Geoff saved your ass!"

Ray’s voice was quivering at the end, his words broken.

"Every time he was scared about losing one of us, every time he worried about us… it made us ‘all he can lose’ and it fed the deal. She was cultivating his guilt. She fucking fed on it, on his protectiveness it's like fuel for her powers. Killing us and taking our souls would have destroyed Geoff and she would have had a fucking feast."

Michael heard a sniff and looked at Ryan, whose tears were now clear water.

"He did sell me off, then," he said, voice thick. "Technically."

"We only met… because she put us together?" asked Gavin brokenly.

More silence. Michael preferred the silence now. As long as nobody talked he could focus on how much he hated Geoff for what he did. Anger blocked the other emotions.

He felt Jack’s hand take his arm, and didn’t fight it off. Ray got to his feet, pushing Gavin up with him, trying to move as the Brit clung to him like glue. Michael watched coldly as Ray took Gavin’s face in his hands and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

He did the same to Jack, and then stopped at Ryan, hesitating for a second before kissing him too. And then Ray was before Michael, distorted through his tears, and Michael could feel the imp’s sad smile when their lips touched.

Without a word Jack’s hand fell on Michael’s arm. He felt the familiar shift and then he was standing in the middle of a green forest, surrounded by the deep black night, the smell of fresh soil in his nose.

Someone took him by the arm and pulled him up. Walking away from the forest, and away from Geoff and Ray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael was extremely confused to wake up in the morning in the large bed made of smaller beds in the main bedroom, surrounded by a sleeping Jack and Ryan, and Gavin who was awake, sitting against the wall behind him, eyes lost and looking at nothing. He didn’t remember coming back home or getting into bed. He was still entirely clothed, except for his shoes.

Moving hurt almost as much as thinking. He managed to sit himself up with the help of shaking arms covered in cuts and bruises, several purple spots decorating his pale skin.

Gavin’s eyes turned to him.

"Hey," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"… Hey. You all right?"

Gavin shrugged.

"And your head?" asked Michael.

"It’s fine."

A short silence.

"I mean, my mind’s all scrambled up. But it doesn’t hurt anymore."

Another silence.

"Can we go into the Otherworld today?"

Michael leaned against the wall too. “Why are you asking me?”

"Dunno. Just figured… you’d have something to say about it."

"Why would I?"

"You always have something to say about stuff. You always have an idea what to do."

Michael blinked at him. “What? I never know what to fucking do.”

Gavin shrugged again, completely apathetic. “You hide it well.” He stopped, and took a big breath. Michael saw tears pool at the bottom of his eyes. “You held me together in that weird world. You were always saying stuff and always doing stuff, and you never stopped. You made everyone move even when we were stuck.”

Michael saw the tears form pearls on Gavin’s eyelashes before gliding down his cheeks.

"Doesn’t matter what I did. I couldn’t stop Geoff."

"Nobody could have stopped Geoff." Gavin’s breath hitched. "He was a bloody w-wanker."

Michael’s body moved by itself, taking Gavin in his arms and holding him close.

Gavin cried silently, his shoulders hiccoughing but no sound escaping him. Still it seemed his distress had sent some sort of signal, because it didn’t take long for Ryan and Jack to wake up, or maybe just Jack. Ryan didn’t need to sleep, Michael silently thanked him for faking it, leaving Gavin to think alone for a moment.

Their two sets of arms wrapped around Michael, and squeezed, and held him together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They did go into the Otherworld that day, that very morning.

They easily found Ray, he was wandering around their building and Lindsay was with him, her bright red hair easy to spot. Michael’s heart stopped as he saw Geoff’s black sword in her hands.

"How the fuck did you get that?" he snapped. It came out angrier than he’d meant to, but Lindsay didn’t mind.

"It’s mine, I can call it to me," she said. She wasn’t smiling at all, for once. "I am very sorry for your loss."

"Yeah, thanks," grumbled Michael. "I don’t suppose you could—"

"No, I couldn’t have changed anything." She shook her head. "Geoff did the only thing that could terminate his contract. There’s no escape with witches, there’s no secret trick you can learn."

"Did you know?" asked Jack.

"That the witch was still alive? Yes."

Michael gaped at her.

"What… why didn’t you tell us?!"

"I did," said Lindsay, raising a condescending eyebrow. "I told you about the strings of fate, about her calling to him in his sleep."

"Was that what you were trying to say?! You said not to tell him!"

"It would have made him panic and do something stupid prematurely. I was only trying to expand his lifespan."

"Michael," said Jack, "leave it."

"But—"

"Michael."

Michael closed his mouth. His anger was still bubbling in him but he shut up. Jack was right, Lindsay wouldn’t understand ; she was an alf, not a human.

"You want direct answers?" asked Lindsay, obviously vexed. "Here’s one : Ryan? You’re going to die. Now the witch is dead, the magic she left in you is going to disappear eventually. She already drained a lot out of you so it shouldn’t be very long. You can extend your life by making another deal with another witch. Do whatever you want."

She turned towards Michael, who felt like he’d just been clubbed over the head.

"And even if you don’t believe me, I am genuinely sorry for what happened to Geoff. He was a good friend, despite that disgusting deal. He devoted his life to making it right again, and I don’t think he could have done anything more than what he did. It’s good enough for me."

"Lindsay?" asked Jack softly. "Since the witch didn’t get his soul… where did it go?"

Head-tilt. “Where all the lost souls go, Jack. The Chat Foireau made sure of it.”

"Lost?"

"It was the witch’s to take, but now she’s dead Geoff’s soul has no owner anymore. It’s going to Limbo, or Purgatory, or whatever other word you use for this place."

"Is it… is it peaceful there?"

Lindsay shrugged. “It’s nothing.” Her smile came back. “I have to go, now. Goodbye, friends. Hope to see you soon. Good luck, Ryan.”

And she dissolved.

All the eyes turned towards Ryan. Surprisingly enough, he was the only one who didn’t look completely devastated.

He slung an arm around Ray’s shoulders. “I should have died years ago. I hate everything that happened but… I met you guys thanks to this whole fuck-up. I can’t be angry.”

"I fucking hate you," said Ray, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

"I’m gonna make your life awesome," said Gavin fiercely.

"Really? How?"

"I’ll… find a way. Do you want to go to an amusement park? Or like… drink beer under the sunset? I don’t care, I’ll do it."

Ryan chortled. “Thanks, Gavin. As long as you don’t make a deal with a witch you can do whatever you want for me.”

"I really, really fucking hate you." Ray’s hand tightened a little more around Ryan’s.

Michael watched them flutter around each other.

"I hate this life," he said under his breath, and Jack came to stand beside him.

"Maybe if we live it together you’ll start liking it again."

Michael looked at him, with his warm brown eyes clouded by pain. “It’s going to hurt like fuck.”

"I know," said Jack, and Michael huffed.

"All right."

He took Jack’s hand and joined the other three.

Didn’t matter how much this life was going to hurt. Didn’t even matter that it hadn’t been ‘meant to be’ but had been orchestrated by a crazy witch, Michael had never believed in fate anyway. He wasn’t going to leave these guys.

He was going to stick with them until their dying breath, because they sure as hell were going to die before him ; he was not going to let himself be killed until he was sure and certain all his boys had a happy life and a peaceful death. He would not allow anyone else to go through what Geoff had gone through.

And if witches and alfs stood on his path again, Michael was going to destroy them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later, on the day they had all agreed to try to anchor Ray to a new item, Michael woke up disgustingly early.

A thought had popped up in his head that night, a memory he had forgotten about. It had invaded his dreams and now it was pulsating in his mind like a bad migraine.

He sat up, dislodging Gavin’s chin from the crook of his shoulder and disentangling himself from Ryan’s embrace. That guy slept nowadays, though Michael wasn’t sure it was sleep and not bouts of unconsciousness. Ryan was growing weaker every day.

Michael also took Jack’s glasses off his nose, as the man had fallen asleep too quickly to think about it himself -again. He was working tirelessly to try to find an elixir that would help Ryan. So far, no luck. Ryan kept telling him to stop, that it wasn’t worth sacrificing his health, but Jack stubbornly refused.

Michael slipped out of the bed and silently ran to Jack’s laboratory. He opened the trunk and went through the books, one by one, until he found the one he was looking for.

"Portals," he whispered, reading the title, golden letters shining at him.

He sat down and opened it, flipping through the pages until he found the part he wanted to see.

'Purgatory.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaannnd we're done! thanks for reading/kudoing/bookmarking, everyone!
> 
> and yes, there is a possibility for a sequel. It might come some time in the near future, because I really enjoy writing in this universe, but I'm not sure when it'll be. 
> 
> thank you, bye~!


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